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/"^  I  II "*  C1  T^lkFI  I  HP  O I  IIVFI 

CHESTNUT  BURR 

By  E'P-POE 


Opening 
A  Chestnut  Burr 


BY 

REV.  E.  P.  ROE 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET   &   DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1874, 

BY 
DODD    &    MEAD. 


COPYRIGHT,  1884,  1885, 

BY 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY. 


"  * ' ' '  d  !  CorvKisHT,  1902, 

*  '         '•••'•'   flY 

ANNA  P.   ROE. 


THIS   BOOK 

is 
AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 

TO 

MY  WIFE 


249002 


PREFACE. 


IN  sending  this,  my  fourth  venture,  out  upon  the 
uncertain  waters  of  public  opinion,  I  shall  say 
but  few  words  of  preface.  In  the  past  I  have  re» 
ceived  considerable  well-deserved  criticism  from  the 
gentlemen  of  the  caustic  pen,  but  so  far  from  having 
any  hard  reeling  toward  them,  I  have  rather  won 
dered  that  they  found  so  much  to  say  that  was 
favorable.  How  they  will  judge  this  simple  October 
story  (if  they  tkiak  it  worthwhile  to  judge  it  at  all)  I 
leave  to  the  future,  and  turn  to  those  for  whom  the 
book  was  really  written. 

In  fancy  I  see  them  around  the  glowing  hearth  in 
quiet  homes,  such  as  I  have  tried  to  describe  in  the 
following  pages,  and  hope  that  this  new-comer  will 
be  welcomed  for  the  sake  of  those  that  preceded 
it.  Possibly  it  may  make  friends  of  its  own. 

From  widely  separated  parts  of  the  country,  and 
from  almost  every  class,  I  have  received  many  and 
cordial  assurances  that  my  former  books  were  sources 
not  only  of  pleasure,  but  also  of  help  and  benefit, 
and  I  am  deeply  grateful  for  the  privilege  of  unob 
trusively  entering  so  many  households,  and  saying 


8  PREFACE. 

words  on  that  subject  which  is  inseparable  from  hap 
piness  in  both  worlds. 

I  think  the  purpose  of  the  book  will  become  ap 
parent  to  the  reader.  The  incidents  and  characters 
are  mainly  imaginary. 

Observation  has  shown  me  that  there  are  many  in 
the  world,  like  my  hero,  whose  condition  can  be  illus 
trated  by  the  following  lines  : 

Were  some  great  ship  all  out  of  stores, 

When  half-way  o'er  the  sea, 
Fit  emblem  of  too  many  lives, 

Such  vessel  doomed  would  be. 

Must  there  not  be  something  fatally  wrong  in  that 
scheme  of  life  which  finds  an  heir  of  eternity  weary, 
listless,  discouraged,  while  yet  in  the  dawning  of 
existence  ?  It  is  not  in  perishing  things,  merely,  to 
give  back  the  lost  zest.  But  a  glad  zest  and  hope 
fulness  might  be  inspired  even  in  the  most  jaded  and 
ennui-cursed,  were  there  in  our  homes  such  simple, 
truthful  natures  as  that  of  my  heroine ;  and  in  the 
sphere  of  quiet  homes — not  elsewhere — I  believe 
that  woman  can  best  rule  and  save  the  world. 

HIGHLAND  FALLS,  N.  YM  September,  1874. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAG. 

A  HERO  BUT  NOT  HEROIC 13 

CHAPTER  II. 
OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR 31 

CHAPTER  III. 
MORBID  BROODING 46 

CHAPTER  IV. 
How  Miss  WALTON  MANAGED  PEOPLE 53 

CHAPTER  V. 
WAS  IT  AN  ACCIDENT? 6r 

CHAPTER  VI. 
UNEXPECTED  CHESTNUT  BURRS  .. 69 


CHAPTER  VII. 
A  CONSPIRACY 78 


10  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PACK 

WITCHCRAFT 91 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Miss  WALTON  RECOMMENDS  A  HOBBY f 101 

CHAPTER    X. 
A  PLOT  AGAINST  Miss  WALTON 107 

CHAPTER  XI. 
A  DRINKING  SONG  AT  A  PRAYER-MEETING 116 

CHAPTER  XII. 
FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION 125 

CHAPTER  XIIL 
INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS 137 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  WELL-MEANIN'  MAN 154 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Miss  WALTON'S  DREAM 165 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
AN  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS , 186 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
PROMISE  OR  DIE 199 


CONTENTS.  II 

CHAPTER  XVIIL 

PAGB 
In  THE  DEPTHS. 217 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Miss  WALTON  MADE  OF  DIFFERENT  CLAY  FROM  OTHERS 231 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Miss  WALTON  MADE  OF  ORDINARY  CLAY 252 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
PASSION  AND  PENITENCE 273 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
NOT  A  HEROINE  BUT  A  WOMAN 288 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 
GREGORY'S  FINAL  CONCLUSION 304 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
THE  WORM-INFESTED  CHESTNUT — GREGORY  TELLS  THE  WORST  316 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
THE  OLD  HOME  IN  DANGER— GREGORY  RETRIEVES  HIMSELF.  .  340 

CHAPTER   XXVI. 
CHANGES  IN  GREGORY 362 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE 374 


12  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXVIIL 

FAGR 

WHAT  A  LOVER  COULD  DO 388 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
DEEPENING  SHADOWS., 407 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
KEPT  FROM  THE  EVIL 428 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
LIVE!  LIVE!  ANNIE'S  APPEAL 442 

CHAPTER  XXXIL 
AT  SEA — A  MYSTERIOUS  PASSENGER 475 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
A  COLLISION  AT  SEA — WHAT  A  CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO 491 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
UNMASKED ...  511 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
CHESTNUT  BURR  AND  A  HOME. 533 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  HERO,   BUT  NOT  HEROIC. 

*  *  Q  HALL  I  ever  be  strong  in  mind  or  body  again?  * 
O     said  Walter  Gregory,  with   irritation,  as  he 
entered  a  crowded  Broadway  omnibus. 

The  person  thus  querying  so  despairingly  with  him 
self  was  a  man  not  far  from  thirty  years  of  age,  but 
the  lines  of  care  were  furrowed  so  deeply  on  his 
handsome  face,  that  dismal,  lowering  morning,  the 
first  of  October,  that  he  seemed  much  older.  Hav 
ing  wedged  himself  in  between  two  burly  forms  that 
suggested  thrift  down  town  and  good  cheer  on  the 
avenue,  he  appears  meagre  and  shrunken  in  contrast. 
He  is  tall  and  thin.  His  face  is  white  and  drawn, 
instead  of  being  ruddy  with  health's  rich,  warm  blood. 
There  is  scarcely  anything  remaining  to  remind  one 
of  the  period  of  youth,  so  recently  vanished ; 
neither  is  there  the  dignity,  nor  the  consciousness  of 
strength,  that  should  come  with  maturer  years.  His 
heavy,  light-colored  mustache  and  pallid  face  gave 
him  the  aspect  of  a  blast  man  of  the  world  who  had 


14  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

exhausted  himself  and  life  at  an  age  when  wisely 
directed  manhood  should  be  just  entering  on  its 
richest  pleasures. 

And  such  an  opinion  of  him,  with  some  hopeful 
exceptions  and  indications,  would  be  correct.  The 
'expression  of  irritation  and  self-disgust  still  remain 
ing  on  his  face  as  the  stage  rumbles  down  town  is  a 
hopeful  sign.  His  soul  at  least  is  not  surrounded 
by  a  Chinese  wall  of  conceit.  However  perverted 
his  nature  may  be,  it  is  not  a  shallow  one,  and  he 
evidently  has  a  painful  sense  of  the  wrongs  com 
mitted  against  it.  Though  his  square  jaw  and  the 
curve  of  his  lip  indicate  firmness,  one  could  not  look 
upon  his  contracted  brow  and  half-despairing  expres 
sion,  as  he  sits  oblivious  of  all  surroundings,  without 
thinking  of  a  ship  drifting  helplessly  and  in  distress. 
There  are  encouraging  possibilities  in  the  fact  that 
from  those  windows  of  the  soul,  his  eyes,  a  troubled 
rather  than  an  evil  spirit  looks  out.  A  close  ob 
server  would  see  at  a  glance  that  he  was  not  a  good 
man,  but  he  might  also  note  that  he  was  not  con 
tent  with  being  a  bad  one.  There  was  little  of  the 
rigid  pride  and  sinister  hardness  or  the  conceit  often 
seen  on  the  faces  of  men  of  the  world  who  have 
spent  years  in  spoiling  their  manhood ;  and  the 
sensual  phase  of  coarse  dissipation  was  quite  want 
ing. 

You  will  find  in  artificial  metropolitan  society 
many  men  so  emasculated  that  they  are  quite  vain 
of  being  blast, — fools  that  with  conscious  superiority 
smile  disdainfully  at  those  still  possessing  simple, 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  15 

\vholesome  tastes  for  things  which  they  in  their 
indescribable  accent  characterize  as  a  "  bore." 

But  Walter  Gregory  looked  like  one  who  had  early 
found  the  dregs  of  evil  life  very  bitter,  and  his  face 
was  like  that  of  nature  when  smitten  with  untimely 
frosts. 

He  reached  his  office  at  last,  and  wearily  sat  down 
to  the  routine  work  at  his  desk.  Instead  of  the 
intent  and  interested  look  with  which  a  young  and 
healthy  man  would  naturally  enter  on  his  business, 
he  showed  rather  a  dogged  resolution  to  work 
whether  he  felt  like  it  or  not,  and  with  harsh  disre 
gard  of  his  physical  weakness. 

The  world  will  never  cease  witnessing  the  wrongs 
that  men  commit  against  each  other ;  but  perhaps 
If  the  wrongs  and  cruelties  that  people  inflict  on 
themselves  could  be  summed  up  the  painful  aggregate 
would  be  much  larger. 

As  Gregory  sat  bending  over  his  writing,  rather 
from  weakness  than  from  a  stooping  habit,  his  senior 
partner  came  in,  and  was  evidently  struck  by  the 
appearance  of  feebleness  on  the  part  of  the  young 
man.  The  unpleasant  impression  haunted  him,  for 
having  looked  over  his  letters  he  came  out  of  his 
private  office  and  again  glanced  uneasily  at  the  color 
less  face,  which  gave  evidence  that  only  sheer  force 
of  will  was  spurring  a  failing  hand  and  brain  to  their 
tasks. 

At  last  Mr.  Burnett  came  and  laid  his  hand  on  his 
junior  partner's  shoulder,  saying,  kindly,  "  Come, 
Gregory,  drop  your  work.  You  are  ill.  The  strain 


1 6  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

upon  you  has  been  too  long  and  severe.  The  worst 
is  over  now,  and  we  are  going  to  pull  through  better 
than  I  expected.  Don't  take  the  matter  so  bitterly 
to  heart.  I  admit  myself  that  the  operation  prom 
ised  well  at  first.  You  were  misled,  and  so  were  we 
all,  by  downright  deception.  That  the  swindle  was 
imposed  on  us  through  you  was  more  your  misfor 
tune  than  your  fault,  and  it  will  make  you  a  keener 
business  man  in  the  future.  You  have  worked  like 
a  galley-slave  all  summer  to  retrieve  matters,  and 
have  taken  no  vacation  at  all.  You  must  take  one 
now  immediately,  or  you  will  break  down  altogether. 
Go  off  to  the  woods  ;  fish,  hunt,  follow  your  fancies ; 
and  the  bracing  October  air  will  make  a  new  man 
of  you." 

"  I  thank  you  very  much,"  Gregory  began.  "  I 
suppose  I  do  need  rest.  In  a  few  days,  however,  I 
can  leave  better — " 

"  No,"  interrupted  Mr.  Burnett,  with  hearty  em 
phasis  ;  "  drop  everything.  As  soon  as  you  finish 
that  letter,  be  off.  Don't  show  your  face  here  again 
till  November." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  interest  in  me,"  said  Gregory, 
rising.  "  Indeed,  I  believe  it  would  be  good  econ 
omy,  for  if  I  don't  feel  better  soon  I  shall  be  of 
no  use  here  or  anywhere  else." 

"  That's  it,"  said  old  Mr.  Burnett,  kindly.  "  Sick 
and  blue,  they  go  together.  Now  be  off  to  the 
woods,  and  send  me  some  game.  I  won't  inquire 
EOO  sharply  whether  you  brought  it  down  with  lead 
or  silver." 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  17 

Gregory  soon  left  the  office,  and  made  his  arrange- 
ments  to  start  on  his  trip  early  the  next  morning. 
His  purpose  was  to  make  a  brief  visit  to  the  home 
of  his  boyhood  and  then  to  go  wherever  a  vagrant 
fancy  might  lead. 

The  ancestral  place  was  no  longer  in  his  family, 
though  he  was  spared  the  pain  of  seeing  it  in  the 
hands  of  strangers.  It  had  been  purchased  a  few 
years  since  by  an  old  and  very  dear  friend  of  his 
deceased  father, — a  gentleman  named  Walton.  It 
had  so  happened  that  Gregory  had  rarely  met  his 
father's  friend,  who  had  been  engaged  in  business  at 
the  West,  and  of  his  family  he  knew  little  more  than 
that  there  were  two  daughters, — one  who  had  mar 
ried  a  Southern  gentleman,  and  the  other,  much 
younger,  living  with  her  father.  Gregory  had  been 
much  abroad  as  the  European  agent  of  his  house, 
and  it  was  during  such  absence  that  Mr.  Walton  had 
retired  from  business  and  purchased  the  old  Gregory 
homestead.  The  young  man  felt  sure,  however,  that 
though  a  comparative  stranger  himself,  he  would, 
for  his  father's  sake,  be  a  welcome  visitor  at  the 
home  of  his  childhood.  At  any  rate  he  determined 
to  test  the  matter,  for  the  moment  he  found  himself 
at  liberty  he  felt  a  strange  and  an  eager  longing  to 
revisit  the  scenes  of  the  happiest  portion  of  his 
life.  He  had  meant  to  pay  such  a  visit  in  the  previ 
ous  spring,  soon  after  his  arrival  from  Europe,  when 
his  elation  a*-  being  made  partner  in  the  house  which 
he  so  long  had  served  as  clerk  reached  almost  the 
point  of  happiness. 


1 8  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Among  those  who  had  welcomed  him  back  was  a 
man  a  little  older  than  himself,  who,  in  his  absence, 
had  become  known  as  a  successful  operator  in  Wall 
Street.  They  had  been  intimate  before  Gregory 
went  abroad,  and  the  friendship  was  renewed  at 
once.  Gregory  prided  himself  on  his  knowledge  of 
the  world,  and  was  not  by  nature  inclined  to  trust 
hastily ;  and  yet  he  did  place  implicit  confidence  in 
Mr.  Hunting,  regarding  him  as  a  better  man  than 
himself.  Hunting  was  an  active  member  of  a  church, 
and  his  name  figured  on  several  charities,  while  Greg 
ory  had  almost  ceased  to  attend  any  place  of  worship, 
and  spent  his  money  selfishly  upon  himself,  or 
foolishly  upon  others,  giving  only  as  prompted  by 
impulse.  Indeed,  his  friend  had  occasionally  ven 
tured  to  remonstrate  with  him  against  his  tenden 
cies  to  dissipation,  saying  that  a  young  man  of  his 
prospects  should  not  damage  them  for  the  sake  of 
passing  gratification.  Gregory  felt  the  force  of  these 
words,  for  he  was  exceedingly  ambitious,  and  bent 
upon  accumulating  wealth  and  at  the  same  time 
making  a  brilliant  figure  in  business  circles. 

In  addition  to  the  ordinary  motives  which  would 
naturally  lead  him  to  desire  such  success  he  wa? 
incited  by  a  secret  one  more  powerful  than  all  the 
others  combined. 

Before  going  abroad,  when  but  a  clerk,  he  had  been 
the  favored  suitor  of  a  beautiful  and  accomplished 
girl.  Indeed  the  understanding  betweer  them  almost 
amounted  to  an  engagement,  and  he  revelled  in  a 
passionate,  romantic  attachment  at  an  age  when 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  19 

the  blood  is  hot,  the  heart  enthusiastic,  and  when 
not  a  particle  of  worldly  cynicism  and  adverse 
experience  had  taught  him  to  moderate  his  rose-hued 
anticipations.  She  seemed  the  embodiment  of  good 
ness,  as  well  as  beauty  and  grace,  for  did  she  not 
repress  his  tendencies  to  be  a  little  fast?  Did  she 
not,  with  more  than  sisterly  solicitude,  counsel  him 
to  shun  certain  florid  youth  whose  premature  blos 
soming  indicated  that  they  might  early  run  to  seed? 
and  did  he  not,  in  consequence,  cut  Guy  Bonner,  the 
jolliest  fellow  he  had  ever  known  ?  Indeed,  more 
than  all,  had  she  not  ventured  to  talk  religion  to 
him,  so  that  for  a  time  he  had  regarded  himself  as 
in  a  very  "  hopeful  frame  of  mind,"  and  had  been 
inclined  to  take  a  mission-class  in  the  same  school 
with  herself  ?  How  lovely  and  angelic  she  had  once 
appeared,  stooping  in  elegant  costume  from  her  social 
height  to  the  little  ragamuffins  of  the  street  that  sat 
gaping  around  her!  As  he  gazed  adoringly,  while 
waiting  to  be  her  escort  home,  his  young  heart  had 
swelled  with  the  impulse  to  be  good  and  noble  also. 
But  one  day  she  caused  him  to  drop  out  of  his 
roseate  clouds.  With  much  sweetness  and  resig 
nation,  and  with  appropriate  sighs,  she  said  that 
"  it  was  her  painful  duty  to  tell  him  that  their 
intimacy  must  cease, — that  she  had  received  an 
offer  from  Mr.  Grobb,  and  that  her  parents,  and 
indeed  all  her  friends,  had  urged  her  to  accept 
him.  She  had  been  led  to  feel  that  they  with 
their  riper  experience  and  knowledge  of  life  knew 
what  was  best  for  her,  and  therefore  she  had  yielded 


20  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

to  their  wishes  and  accepted  the  offer."  She  was 
beginning  to  add,  in  a  sentimental  tone,  that  "had 
she  only  followed  the  impulses  of  her  heart " — 
when  Gregory,  at  first  too  stunned  and  bewildered 
to  speak,  recovered  his  senses  and  interrupted  with, 
"  Please  don't  speak  of  your  heart,  Miss  Bently. 
Why  mention  so  small  a  matter?  Go  on  with  your 
little  transaction  by  all  means.  I  am  a  business  man 
myself,  and  can  readily  understand  your  motives  ;" 
and  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  strode  from  the  room, 
leaving  Miss  Bently  ill  at  ease. 

The  young  man's  first  expression  of  having  re 
ceived,  as  it  were,  a  staggering  blow,  and  then  his 
bitter  satire,  made  an  impression  on  her  cotton-and- 
wool  nature,  and  for  a  time  her  proceedings  with 
Mr.  Grobb  did  not  wear  the  aspect  in  which  they 
had  been  presented  by  her  friends.  But  her  little 
world  so  confidently  and  continually  reiterated  the 
statement  that  she  was  making  a  "  splendid  match" 
that  her  qualms  vanished,  and  she  felt  that  what  all 
asserted  must  be  true,  and  so  entered  on  the  gor 
geous  preparations  as  if  the  wedding  were  all  and 
the  man  nothing. 

It  is  the  custom  to  satirize  or  bitterly  denounce 
such  girls,  but  perhaps  they  are  rather  to  be  pitied. 
They  are  the  natural  products  of  artificial  society, 
wherein  wealth,  show,  and  the  social  eminence  which 
is  based  on  dress  and  establishment  are  held  out  as 
the  prizes  of  a  woman's  existence.  The  only  won 
der  is  that  so  much  heart  and  truth  assert  themselves 
among  those  who  all  their  life  have  seen  wealth 


A  HERO.  BUT  NOr  HEROIC.  21 

practically  worshipped,  and  worth,  ungilded,  gener 
ally  ignored.  '  From  ultra-fashionable  circles  a  girl 
is  often  seen  developing  into  the  noblest  woman- 
hood  ;  while  narrow,  mercenary  natures  are  often 
found  where  far  better  things  might  have  been  ex 
pected.  If  such  girls  as  Miss  Bently  could  only  be 
kept  in  quiet  obscurity,  like  a  bale  of  merchandise, 
till  wanted,  it  would  not  be  so  bad  ;  but  some  of 
them  are  such  brilliant  belles  and  incorrigible 
coquettes  that  they  are  like  certain  Wall  Street  specu 
lators  who  threaten  to  "  break  the  street  "  in  making 
their  own  fortunes. 

Some  natures  can  receive  a  fair  lady's  refusal  with 
a  good-natured  shrug,  as  merely  the  result  of  a  bad 
venture,  and  hope  for  better  luck  next  time ;  but 
to  a  greater  number  this  is  impossible,  especially 
if  they  are  played  with  and  deceived.  Walter 
Gregory  pre-eminently  belonged  to  the  latter  class. 
In  early  life  he  had  breathed  the  very  atmos 
phere  of  truth,  and  his  tendency  to  sincerity  ever 
remained  the  best  element  of  his  character.  His 
was  one  of  those  fine-fibred  natures  most  susceptible 
to  injury.  Up  to  this  time  his  indiscretions  had  only 
been  those  of  foolish,  thoughtless  youth,  while  aim 
ing  at  the  standard  of  manliness  and  style  in  vogue 
among  his  city  companions.  High-spirited  young 
fellows,  not  early  braced  by  principle,  must  pass 
through  this  phase  as  in  babyhood  they  cut  their 
teeth.  If  there  is  true  mettle  in  them,  and  they 
are  not  perverted  by  exceptionally  bad  influences, 
they  outgrow  the  idea  that  to  be  fast  and  fool- 


22  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

ish  is  to  be  men  as  naturally  as  they  do  their 
roundabouts. 

What  a  man  does  is  often  not  so  important  as  the 
state  of  the  heart  that  prompts  the  act.  In  common 
parlance,  Walter  was  as  good-hearted  a  fellow  as  ever 
breathed.  Indeed,  he  was  really  inclined  to  noble 
enthusiasms. 

Jf  Miss  Bently  had  been  what  he  imagined  her, 
she  might  have  led  him  swiftly  and  surely  into  true 
manhood  ;  but  she  was  only  an  adept  at  pretty  seem 
ing  with  him,  and  when  Mr.  Grobb  offered  her  his 
vast  wealth,  with  himself  as  the  only  incumbrance, 
she  acted  promptly  and  characteristically. 

But  perhaps  it  can  be  safely  said  that  in  no  den  of 
iniquity  in  the  city  could  Walter  Gregory  have  re 
ceived  such  moral  injury  as  poisoned  his  very  soul 
when,  in  Mr.  Bently's  elegant  and  respectable  parlor, 
the  "  angel  "  he  worshipped  "  explained  how  she  was 
situated,"  and  from  a  "  sense  of  duty  "  stated  her 
purpose  to  yield  to  the  wishes  of  her  friends.  Greg 
ory  had  often  seen  Mr.  Grobb,  but  had  given  him  no 
thought,  supposing  him  some  elderly  relative  of  the 
family.  That  this  was  the  accepted  suitor  of  the  girl 
who  had,  with  tender,  meaning  glances,  sung  for 
him  sentimental  ballads,  who  had  sweetly  talked  to 
him  of  religion  and  mission  work,  seemed  a  mon 
strous  perversion.  Call  it  unjust,  unreasonable,  if 
you  will,  yet  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  for  one  possessing  his  sensitive,  intense  nature 
to  pass  into  harsh,  bitter  cynicism,  and  to  regard  Miss 
Bently  as  a  typical  girl  of  the  period. 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  23 

A  young  man  is  far  on  the  road  to  evil  when  he 
loses  faith  in  woman.  During  the  formative  period 
of  character  she  is,  of  earthly  influences,  the  most 
potent  in  making  or  marring  him.  A  kind  refusal, 
where  no  false  encouragement  has  been  given,  often 
does  a  man  good,  and  leaves  his  faith  intact ;  but  an 
experience  similar  to  that  of  young  Gregory  is  like 
putting  into  a  fountain  that  which  may  stain  and 
imbitter  the  waters  of  the  stream  in  all  its  length. 

At  the  early  age  of  twenty-two  he  became  what  is 
usually  understood  by  the  phrase  "  a  man  of  the 
world."  Still  his  moral  nature  could  not  sink  into 
the  depths  without  many  a  bitter  outcry  against  its 
wrongs.  It  was  with  no  slight  effort  that  he  drowned 
the  memory  of  his  early  home  and  its  good  influ 
ences.  During  the  first  two  or  three  years  he  occa 
sionally  had  periods  of  passionate  remorse,  and  made 
spasmodic  efforts  toward  better  things.  But  they 
were  made  in  human  strength,  and  in  view  of  the 
penalties  of  evil,  rather  than  because  he  was  enam 
ored  of  the  right.  Some  special  temptation  would 
soon  sweep  him  away  into  the  old  life,  and  thus,  be 
cause  of  his  broken  promises  and  repeated  failures,  he 
at  last  lost  faith  in  himself  also,  and  lacked  that  self- 
respect  without  which  no  man  can  cope  successfully 
ivith  his  evil  nature  and  an  evil  world. 

Living  in  a  boarding-house,  with  none  of  the 
restraints  and  purifying  influences  of  a  good  home,  he 
formed  intimacies  with  brilliant  but  unscrupulous 
young  men.  The  theatre  became  his  church,  and  at 
last  the  code  of  his  fast,  fashionable  set  was  that 


24  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

which  governed  his  life.  He  avoided  gross,  vulgar 
dissipation,  both  because  his  nature  revolted  at  it, 
and  also  on  account  of  his  purpose  to  permit  noth 
ing  to  interfere  with  his  prospects  of  advancement 
in  business.  He  meant  to  show  Miss  Bently  that 
she  had  made  a  bad  business  speculation  after  all. 
Thus  ambition  became  the  controlling  element  in 
his  character ;  and  he  might  have  had  a  worse  one. 
Moreover,  in  all  his  moral  debasement  he  never  lost 
a  decided  tendency  toward  truthfulness  and  honesty. 
He  would  have  starved  rather  than  touch  anything 
that  did  not  belong  to  him,  nor  would  he  allow  him 
self  to  deceive  in  matters  of  business,  and  it  was 
upon  these  points  that  he  specially  prided  himself. 

Gregory's  unusual  business  ability,  coupled  with 
his  knowledge  of  French  and  German,  led  to  his 
being  sent  abroad  as  agent  of  his  firm.  Five  years 
of  life  in  the  materialistic  and  sceptical  atmosphere 
of  continental  cities  confirmed  the  evil  tendencies 
which  were  only  too  well  developed  before  he  left 
his  own  land.  He  became  what  so  many  appear 
to  be  in  our  day,  a  practical  materialist  and  athe 
ist.  Present  life  and  surroundings,  present  profit 
and  pleasure,  were  all  in  all.  He  ceased  to  recog 
nize  the  existence  of  a  soul  within  himself  having 
distinct  needs  and  interests.  His  thoughts  centred 
wholly  in  the  comfort  and  pleasures  of  the  day  and 
in  that  which  would  advance  his  ambitious  schemes. 
His  scepticism  was  not  intellectual  and  in  reference 
to  the  Bible  and  its  teachings,  but  practical  and  in 
reference  to  humanity  itself.  He  believed  thatwhb 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  2$ 

few  exceptions  men  and  women  lived  for  their  own 
profit  and  pleasure,  and  that  religion  and  creeds 
were  matters  of  custom  and  fashion,  or  an  accident 
of  birih.  Only  the  reverence  in  which  religion  had 
been  held  in  his  early  home  kept  him  from  sharing 
fully  in  the  contempt  which  the  gentlemen  he  met 
abroad  seemed  to  have  for  it.  He  could  not  alto 
gether  despise  his  mother's  faith,  but  he  regarded 
her  as  a  gentle  enthusiast  haunted  by  sacred  tradi 
tions.  The  companionships  which  he  had  formed 
led  him  to  believe  that  unless  influenced  by  some 
interested  motive  a  liberal-minded  man  of  the  world 
must  of  necessity  outgrow  these  things.  With  the 
self-deception  of  his  kind,  he  thought  he  was  broad 
and  liberal  in  his  views,  when  in  reality  he  had  lost 
all  distinction  between  truth  and  error,  and  was 
narrowing  his  mind  down  to  things  only.  Jew  or 
Gentile,  Christian  or  Pagan,  it  was  becoming  all  one 
to  him.  Men  changed  their  creeds  and  religions 
with  other  fashions,  but  all  looked  after  what  they 
believed  to  be  the  main  chance,  and  he  proposed  to 
do  the  same. 

As  time  passed  on,  however,  he  began  to  admit  to 
himself  that  it  was  strange  that  in  making  all  things 
bend  to  his  pleasure  he  did  not  secure  more.  He 
wearied  of  certain  things.  Stronger  excitements 
were  needed  to  spur  his  jaded  senses.  His  bets,  his 
stakes  at  cards  grew  heavier,  his  pleasures  more 
gross,  till  a  delicate  organization  so  revolted  at  its 
wrongs  and  so  chastised  him  for  excess  that  he  was 
deterred  from  self-gratification  in  that  direction. 


26  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Some  men's  bodies  are  a  "means  of  grace"  to 
them.  Coarse  dissipation  is  a  physical  impossibility, 
or  swift  suicide  in  a  very  painful  form.  Younpt 
Gregory  found  that  only  in  the  excitements  of  the. 
mind  could  he  hope  to  find  continued  enjoyment 
His  ambition  to  accumulate  wealth  and  become  a 
brilliant  business  man  most  accorded  with  his  tastes 
and  training,  and  on  these  objects  he  gradually  con 
centrated  all  his  energies,  seeking  only  in  club-rooms 
and  places  of  fashionable  resort  recreation  from  the 
strain  of  business. 

He  recognized  that  the  best  way  to  advance  his 
own  interests  was  to  serve  his  employers  well ;  and 
this  he  did  so  effectually  that  at  last  he  was  made  a 
partner  in  the  business,  and,  with  a  sense  of  some 
thing  more  like  pleasure  than  he  had  known  for  a 
long  time,  returned  to  New  York  and  entered  upon 
his  new  duties. 

As  we  have  said,  among  those  who  warmly 
greeted  and  congratulated  him,  was  Mr.  Hunting, 
They  gradually  came  to  spend  much  time  together, 
and  business  and  money-getting  were  their  favorite 
themes.  Gregory  saw  that  his  friend  was  as  keen 
on  the  track  of  fortune  as  himself,  and  that  he  had 
apparently  been  much  more  successful.  Mr.  Hunt 
ing  intimated  that  after  one  reached  the  charmed 
inner  circle  Wall  Street  was  a  perfect  Eldorado,  and 
seemed  to  take  pains  to  drop  occasional  suggestions 
as  to  how  an  investment  shrewdly  made  by  one  with 
his  favored  point  of  observation  often  secured  in  a 
day  a  larger  return  than  a  year  of  plodding  business. 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  27 

These  remarks  were  not  lost  on  Gregory,  and  the 
wish  became  very  strong  that  he  might  share  in  some 
of  the  splendid  "  hits "  by  which  his  friend  was 
accumulating  so  rapidly. 

Usually  Mr.  Hunting  was  very  quiet  and  self- 
possessed,  but  one  evening  in  May  he  came  into 
Gregory's  rooms  in  a  manner  indicating  not  a  little 
excitement  and  elation. 

"  Gregory !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  am  going  to  make 
my  fortune." 

"  Make  your  fortune !  You  are  as  rich  as  Croesus 
now." 

"The  past  will  be  as  nothing.  I've  struck  a  mine 
rather  than  a  vein." 

"  It's  a  pity  some  of  your  friends  could  not  share 
in  your  luck." 

"  Well,  a  few  can.  This  is  so  large,  and  such  a 
good  thing,  that  I  have  concluded  to  let  a  few 
intimates  go  in  with  me.  Only  all  must  keep  very 
quiet  about  it ;  "  and  he  proposed  an  operation  that 
seemed  certain  of  success  as  he  explained  it. 

Gregory  concluded  to  put  into  it  nearly  all  he  had 
independent  of  his  investment  in  the  firm,  and  also 
obtained  permission  to  interest  his  partners,  and  to 
procure  an  interview  between  them  and  Mr.  Hunting. 

The  scheme  looked  so  very  plausible  that  they 
were  drawn  into  it  also ;  but  Mr.  Burnett  took 
Gregory  aside  and  said  :  "  After  all,  we  must  place  a 
great  deal  of  confidence  in  Mr.  Hunting's  word  in 
this  matter.  Are  you  satisfied  that  we  can  safely 
do  so  ?  * 


28  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

11 1  would  stake  my  life  on  his  word  in  this  case," 
said  Gregory,  eagerly,  "  and  I  pledge  all  I  have  put 
in  the  firm  on  his  truth." 

This  was  the  last  flicker  of  his  old  enthusiasm  and 
trust  in  anybody  or  anything,  including  himself. 
With  almost  the  skill  of  genius  Mr.  Hunting 
adroitly,  within  the  limits  of  the  law,  swindled  them 
all,  and  made  a  vast  profit  out  of  their  losses.  The 
transaction  was  not  generally  known,  but  even  some 
of  the  hardened  gamblers  of  the  street  said  "  it  was 
too  bad." 

But  the  bank-officers  with  whom  Burnett  &  Co. 
did  business  knew  about  it,  and  if  it  had  not  been 
for  their  leniency  and  aid  the  firm  would  have  failed. 
As  it  was,  it  required  a  struggle  of  months  to  regain 
the  solid  ground  of  safety. 

At  first  the  firm  was  suspicious  of  Gregory,  and 
disposed  to  blame  him  very  much.  But  when  he 
proved  to  them  that  he  had  lost  his  private  means 
by  Hunting's  treachery,  and  insisted  on  making  over 
to  them  all  his  right  and  title  to  the  property  he  had 
invested  with  them,  they  saw  that  he  was  no  con 
federate  of  the  swindler,  but  that  he  had  suffered 
more  than  any  of  them. 

He  had,  indeed.  He  had  lost  his  ambition.  The 
large  sum  of  money  that  was  to  be  the  basis  of  the 
immense  fortune  he  had  hoped  to  amass  was  gone. 
He  had  greatly  prided  himself  on  his  business 
ability,  but  had  signalized  his  entrance  on  his  new 
and  responsible  position  by  being  overreached  and 
swindled  in  a  transaction  that  had  impoverished 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  29 

himself  and  almost  ruined  his  partners.  He  grew 
very  misanthropic,  and  was  quite  as  bitter  against 
himself  as  against  others.  In  his  estimation  people 
wrere  either  cloaking  their  evil  or  had  not  been 
tempted,  and  he  felt  after  Hunting  dropped  the 
mask  that  he  would  never  trust  any  one  again. 

It  may  be  said,  all  this  is  very  unreasonable.  Yes, 
it  is ;  but  then  people  will  judge  the  world  by  their 
own  experience  of  it,  and  some  natures  are  more 
easily  warped  by  wrong  than  others.  No  logic  can 
cope  with  feeling  and  prejudice.  Because  of  his 
own  misguided  life  and  the  wrong  he  had  received 
from  others,  Walter  Gregory  was  no  more  able  to 
form  a  correct  estimate  of  society  than  one  color 
blind  is  to  judge  of  the  tints  of  flowers.  And  yet 
he  belonged  to  that  class  who  claim  pre-eminently  to 
know  the  world.  Because  he  thought  he  knew  it  so 
well  he  hated  and  despised  it,  and  himself  as  part 
of  it. 

The  months  that  followed  his  great  and  sudden 
downfall  dragged  their  slow  length  along.  He 
worked  early  and  late,  without  thought  of  sparing 
himself.  If  he  could  only  see  what  the  firm  had 
lost  through  him  made  good,  he  did  not  care  what 
became  of  himself.  Why  should  he  ?  There  was 
little  in  the  present  to  interest  him,  and  the  future 
looked,  in  his  depressed,  morbid  state,  as  monotonous 
and  barren  as  the  sands  of  a  desert.  Seemingly,  he 
had  exhausted  life,  and  it  had  lost  all  zest  for 
him. 

But  while  his  power  to  enjoy  had  gone,  not  so  his 


30  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

power  to  suffer.  His  conscience  was  uneasy,  and 
told  him  in  a  vague  way  that  something  was  wrong. 
Reason,  or,  more  correctly  speaking,  instinct,  con 
demned  his  life  as  a  wretched  blunder.  He  had 
lived  for  his  own  enjoyment,  and  now,  when  but 
half  through  life,  what  was  there  for  him  to  enjoy  ? 

As  in  increasing  weakness  he  dragged  himself  to 
the  office  on  a  sultry  September  day,  the  thought 
occurred  to  him  that  the  end  was  nearer  than  he 
expected. 

"  Let  it  come,"  he  said,  bitterly.  "  Why  should  I 
live?" 

The  thought  of  his  early  home  recurred  to  him 
with  increasing  frequency,  and  he  had  a  growing 
desire  to  visit  it  before  his  strength  failed  utterly. 
Therefore  it  was  with  a  certain  melancholy  pleasure 
that  he  found  himself  at  liberty,  through  the  kind 
ness  of  his  partner,  to  make  this  visit,  and  at  the 
season,  too,  when  his  boyish  memories  of  the  place, 
like  the  foliage,  would  be  most  varied  and  vivid.  \ 


CHAPTER   II. 

OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

IF  the  reader  could  imagine  a  man  visiting  his  own; 
grave,  he  might  obtain  some  idea  of  Walter 
Gregory's  feelings  as  he  took  the  boat  which  would 
land  him  not  far  from  his  early  home.  And  yet,  so 
different  was  he  from  the  boy  who  had  left  that 
home  fifteen  years  before,  that  it  was  almost  the 
same  as  if  he  were  visiting  the  grave  of  a  brother 
who  had  died  in  youth. 

Though  the  day  was  mild,  a  fresh,  bracing  wind 
blew  from  the  west.  Shielding  himself  from  this  on 
the  after-deck,  he  half  reclined,  on  account  of  his 
weakness,  in  a  position  from  which  he  could  see  the 
shores  and  passing  vessels  upon  the  river.  The 
swift  gliding  motion,  the  beautiful  and  familiar 
scenery,  the  sense  of  freedom  from  routine  work, 
and  the  crisp,  pure  air,  that  seemed  like  a  delicate 
wine,  all  combined  to  form  a  mystic  lever  that  began 
to  lift  his  heart  out  of  the  depths  of  despondency. 

A  storm  had  passed  away,  leaving  not  a  trace. 
The  October  sun  shone  in  undimmed  splendor,  and 
all  nature  appeared  to  rejoice  in  its  light.  The  waves 
with  their  silver  crests  seemed  chasing  one  another 
in  mad  glee.  The  sailing  vessels,  as  they  tacked  to 


32  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  fro  across  the  river  under  the  stiff  western 
breeze,  made  the  water  foam  about  their  blunt 
prows,  and  the  white-winged  gulls  wheeled  in  grace 
ful  circles  overhead.  There  was  a  sense  of  move 
ment  and  life  that  was  contagious.  Gregory's  dull 
eyes  kindled  with  something  like  interest,  and  then  he 
thought :  "  The  storm  lowered  over  these  sunny 
shores  yesterday.  The  gloom  of  night  rested  upon 
these  waters  but  a  few  hours  since.  Why  is  it  that 
nature  can  smile  and  be  glad  the  moment  the  shadow 
passes  and  I  cannot  ?  Is  there  no  sunlight  for  the 
soul  ?  I  seem  as  if  entering  a  cave,  that  grows 
colder  and  darker  at  every  step,  and  no  gleam  shines 
at  the  farther  end,  indicating  that  I  may  pass 
through  it  and  out  into  the  light  again." 

Thus  letting  his  fancy  wander  at  will,  at  times 
half-dreaming  and  half-waking,  he  passed  the  hours 
that  elapsed  before  the  boat  touched  at  a  point  in 
the  Highlands  of  the  Hudson,  his  destination. 
Making  a  better  dinner  than  he  had  enjoyed  for  a 
long  time,  and  feeling  stronger  than  for  weeks 
before,  he  started  for  the  place  that  now,  of  all  the 
world,  had  for  him  the  greatest  attraction. 

There  was  no  marked  change  in  the  foliage  as  yet, 
but  only  a  deepening  of  color,  like  a  flush  on  the 
cheek  of  beauty.  As  he  was  driving  along  the  familiar 
road,  farm-house  and  grove,  and  even  tree,  rock,  and 
thicket,  began  to  greet  him  as  with  the  faces  of  old 
friends.  At  last  he  saw,  nestling  in  a  wild,  pictur 
esque  valley,  the  quaint  outline  of  his  former  homeo 
His  heart  yearned  toward  it,  and  he  felt  that  next  to 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR.  33 

his  mother's  face  no  other  object  could  be  so  wel 
come. 

"  Slower,  please,"  he  said  to  the  driver. 

Though  his  eyes  were  moist,  and  at  times  dim  with 
tears,  not  a  feature  in  the  scene  escaped  him.  When 
near  the  gateway  he  sprung  out  with  a  lightness  that 
he  would  not  have  believed  possible  the  day  before, 
and  said,  "  Come  for  me  at  five." 

For  a  little  time  he  stood  leaning  on  the  gate. 
Two  children  were  playing  on  the  lawn,  and  it 
almost  seemed  to  him  that  the  elder,  a  boy  of  about 
ten  years,  might  be  himself,  and  he  a  passing  stran 
ger,  who  had  merely  stopped  to  look  at  the  pretty 
scene. 

"  Oh  that  I  were  a  boy  like  that  one  there  !  Oh 
that  I  were  here  again  as  of  old  !  "  he  sighed.  "  How 
unchanged  it  all  is,  and  I  so  changed  !  It  seems  as 
if  the  past  were  mocking  me.  That  must  be  I  there 
playing  with  my  little  sister.  Mother  must  be  sew 
ing  in  her  cheery  south  room,  and  father  surely  is 
taking  his  after-dinner  nap  in  the  library.  Can  it  be 
that  they  are  all  dead  save  me  ?  and  that  this  is 
but  a  beautiful  mirage?" 

He  felt  that  he  could  not  meet  any  one  until  he 
became  more  composed,  and  so  passed  on  up  the 
valley.  Before  turning  away  he  noticed  that  a  lady 
came  out  at  the  front  door.  The  children  joined  her, 
and  they  started  for  a  walk. 

Looking  wistfully  on  either  side,  Gregory  soon 
came  to  a  point  where  the  orchard  extended  to  the 
road.  A  well-remembered  fall  pippin  tree  hung  its 


34  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

laden  boughs  over  the  fence,  and  the  fruit  looked  so 
ripe  and  golden  in  the  slanting  rays  of  October  sun- 
light  that  he  determined  to  try  one  of  the  apples  and 
see  if  it  tasted  as  of  old.  As  he  climbed  upon  the 
wall  a  loose  stone  fell  clattering  down  and  rolled  into 
the  road.  He  did  not  notice  this,  but  an  old  man 
dozing  in  the  porch  of  a  little  house  opposite  did. 
As  Gregory  reached  up  his  cane  to  detach  from  its 
spray  a  great,  yellow-cheeked  fellow,  his  hand  was 
arrested,  and  he  was  almost  startled  off  his  perch  by 
such  a  volley  of  oaths  as  shocked  even  his  hardened 
ears.  Turning  gingerly  around  so  as  not  to  lose  his 
footing,  he  faced  this  masked  battery  that  had  opened 
so  unexpectedly  upon  him,  and  saw  a  white-haired 
old  man  balancing  himself  on  one  crutch  and  brand 
ishing  the  other  at  him. 

"  Stop  knockin'  down  that  wall  and  fillin'  the  road 

with  stuns,  you ,"  shouted  the  venerable  man,  in 

tones  that  indicated  anything  but  the  calmness  of  age. 

"Let  John  Walton's  apples  alone,  you thief. 

What  do  you  mean  by  robbin'  in  broad  daylight, 
right  under  a  man's  nose  ?  " 

Gregory  saw  that  he  had  a  character  to  deal  with, 
and,  to  divert  his  mind  from  thoughts  that  were 
growing  too  painful,  determined  to  draw  the  old  man 
out ;  so  he  said,  "  Is  not  taking  things  so  openly  a 
rather  honest  way  of  robbing?  " 

"  Git  down,  I  tell  yer,"  cried  the  guardian  of  the 
orchard.  "  Suppose  'tis,  it's  robbin'  arter  all.  So 
now  move  on,  and  none  of  yer  cussed  impudence." 

"  But  you  call  them  John  Walton's  apples,"  said 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR  35 

Gregory,  eating  one  with  provoking  coolness.  "  What 
have  you  got  to  do  with  them?  and  why  should  you 
care?  " 

"  Now  look  here,  stranger,  you're  an  infernal  mean 
cuss  to  ask  such  questions.  Ain't  John  Walton  my 
neighbor?  and  a  good  neighbor,  too  ?  D'ye  suppose 
a  well-meanin'  man  like  myself  would  stand  by  and 
see  a  neighbor  robbed?  and  of  all  others,  John 
Walton  ?  Don't  you  know  that  robbin'  a  good  man 
brings  bad  luck,  you  thunderin'  fool  ?  " 

"  But  I've  always  had  bad  luck,  so  I  needn't  stop 
on  that  account,"  retorted  Gregory,  from  the  fence. 

"  I  believe  it,  and  you  allers  will,"  vociferated  the 
old  man,  "  and  I'll  tell  yer  why.  I  know  from  the 
cut  of  yer  jib  that  yer've  allers  been  eatin'  forbidden 
fruit.  If  yer  lived  now  a  good  square  life  like  'Squire 
Walton  and  me,  you'd  have  no  reason  to  complain  of 
yer  luck.  If  I  could  get  a  clip  at  yer  with  this  crutch 
I'd  give  yer  suthin'  else  to  complain  of.  If  yer  had 
any  decency  yer  wouldn't  stand  there  a  jibin'  at  a 
lame  old  man." 

Gregory  took  off  his  hat  with  a  polite  bow  and 
said  :  "  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  I  was  under  the  impress 
ion  that  you  were  doing  the  *  cussing.'  I  shall  come 
and  see  you  soon,  for  somehow  it  does  me  good  to 
have  you  swear  at  me.  I  only  wish  I  had  as  good 
a  friend  in  the  world  as  Mr.  Walton  has  in  you." 
With  these  words  he  sprung  from  the  fence  on  the 
orchard  side,  and  made  his  way  to  the  hill  behind 
the  Walton  residence,  leaving  the  old  man  mumbling 
ind  muttering  in  a  very  profane  manner. 


36  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  B  URR. 

"Like  enough    it   was  somebody   visitin*  at  the 

Waltons',  and  I've  made  a fool  of  myself  after 

all.  What's  worse,  that  poor  little  Miss  Eulie  will 
hear  I've  been  swearin'  agin,  and  there'll  be  another 
awful  prayin'  time.  What  a  cussed  old  fool  I  be,  to 
promise  to  quit  swearin' !  I  know  I  can't.  What's 
the  good  o*  stoppin'  ?  It's  inside,  and  might  as  well 
come  out.  The  Lord  knows  I  don't  mean  no  disre 
spect  to  Him.  It's  only  one  of  my  ways.  He  knows 
well  enough  that  I'm  a  good  neighbor,  and  what's 
the  harm  in  a  little  cussin'?"  and  so  the  strange  old 
man  talked  on  to  himself  in  the  intervals  between 
long  pulls  at  his  pipe. 

By  the  time  Gregory  reached  the  top  of  the  hill 
his  strength  was  quite  exhausted,  and,  panting,  he 
sat  down  on  the  sunny  side  of  a  thicket  of  cedars, 
for  the  late  afternoon  was  growing  chilly.  Beneath 
him  lay  the  one  oasis  in  a  desert  world. 

With  an  indescribable  blending  of  pleasure  and 
pain,  he  found  himself  tracing  with  his  eye  every  well 
remembered  path,  and  marking  every  familiar  object. 

Not  a  breath  of  air  was  stirring,  and  it  would  seem 
that  Nature  was  seeking  to  impart  to  his  perturbed 
spirit,  full  of  the  restless  movement  of  city  life  and 
the  inevitable  disquiet  of  sin,  something  of  her  own 
calmness  and  peace.  The  only  sounds  he  heard 
seemed  a  part  of  nature's  silence, — the  tinkle  of  cow 
bells,  the  slumberous  monotone  of  water  as  it  fell  over 
the  dam,  the  grating  notes  of  a  katydid,  rendered 
hoarse  by  recent  cool  nights,  in  a  shady  ravine  near 
by,  and  a  black  cricket  chirping  at  the  edge  of  the  rock 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR.  37 

on  which  he  sat — these  were  all.  And  yet  the  sounds, 
though  not  heard  for  years,  seemed  as  familiar  as 
the  mother's  lullaby  that  puts  a  child  to  sleep,  and  a 
delicious  sense  of  restfulness  stole  into  his  heart. 
The  world  in  which  he  had  so  greatly  sinned  and 
suffered  might  be  another  planet,  it  seemed  so  far 
away.  Could  it  be  that  in  a  few  short  hours  he  had 
escaped  out  of  the  hurry  and  grind  of  New  York 
into  this  sheltered  nook?  Why  had  he  not  come 
before?  Here  was  the  remedy  for  soul  and  body,  if 
any  existed. 

Not  a  person  was  visible  on  the  place,  and  it 
seemed  that  it  might  thus  have  been  awaiting  him  in 
all  his  absence,  and  that  now  he  had  only  to  go  and 
take  possession. 

"  So  our  home  in  heaven  awaits  us,  mother  used 
to  say,"  he  thought,  "  while  we  are  such  willing 
exiles  from  it.  I  would  give  all  the  world  to  believe 
as  she  did." 

He  found  that  the  place  so  inseparably  associated 
with  his  mother  brought  back  her  teachings,  which 
he  had  so  often  tried  to  forget. 

"  I  wish  I  might  bury  myself  here,  away  from  the 
world,"  he  muttered,  "  for  it  has  only  cheated  and 
lied  to  me  from  first  to  last.  Everything  deceived 
me,  and  turned  out  differently  from  what  I  expected. 
These  loved  old  scenes  are  true  and  unchanged,  and 
smile  upon  me  now  as  when  I  was  here  a  happy  boy. 
Would  to  heaven  I  might  never  leave  them  again  ! ' 

He  was  startled  out  of  his  revery  by  the  sharp 
bark  of  a  squirrel  that  ran  chattering  and  whisking 


38  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURS. 

its  tail  in  great  excitement  from  limb  to  limb  in  a 
clump  of  chestnuts  near.  The  crackling  of  a  twig 
betrayed  to  Gregory  the  cause  of  its  alarm,  for 
through  an  opening  in  the  thicket  he  saw  the  lady 
who  had  started  out  for  a  walk  with  the  children 
while  he  was  leaning  on  the  front  gate. 

Shrinking  farther  behind  the  cedars  he  proposed  to 
reconnoitre  a  little  before  making  himself  known. 
He  observed  that  she  was  attired  in  a  dark,  close- 
fitting  costume  suitable  for  rambling  among  the 
hills.  At  first  he  thought  that  she  was  pretty,  and 
then  that  she  was  not.  His  quick,  critical  eye 
detected  that  her  features  were^not  regular,  that  her 
profile  was  not  classic.  It  was  only  the  rich  glow  of 
exercise  and  the  jaunty  gypsy  hat  that  had  given  the 
first  impression  of  something  like  beauty.  In  her 
right  hand,  which  was  ungloved,  she  daintily  held,  by 
its  short  stem,  a  chestnut  burr  which  the  squirrel  in 
its  alarm  had  dropped,  and  now,  in  its  own  shrill 
vernacular,  was  scolding  about  so  vociferously.  She 
was  glancing  around  for  some  means  to  break  it  open, 
and  Gregory  had  scarcely  time  to  notice  her  fine 
dark  eyes,  when,  as  if  remembering  the  rock  on  which 
he  had  been  sitting,  she  advanced  toward  him  with 
a  step  so  quick  and  elastic  that  he  envied  her  vigor. 

Further  concealment  was  now  impossible.  There 
fore  with  easy  politeness  he  stepped  forward  and 
said,  "  Let  me  open  the  burr  for  you,  Miss  Walton." 

She  started  violently  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and 
for  a  moment  reminded  him  of  a  frightened  bird  on 
the  eve  of  flight. 


OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR.  3£ 

"  Pardon  me  for  so  alarming  you,"  he  hastened  to 
say,  "  and  also  pardon  a  seeming  stranger  for  address 
ing  you  informally.  My  name  may  not  be  unknown 
to  you,  although  I  am  in  person.  It  is  Walter 
Gregory." 

She  had  been  so  startled  that  she  could  not  imme 
diately  recover  herself,  and  still  stood  regarding  him 
doubtfully,  although  with  manner  more  assured. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  smiling  and  advancing  toward 
her  with  the  quiet  assurance  of  a  society  man.  "  Let 
me  open  the  burr  for  you,  and  you  shall  take  its  con 
tents  in  confirmation  of  what  I  say.  If  I  find  sound 
chestnuts  in  it,  let  them  be  a  token  that  I  am  not 
misrepresenting  myself.  If  my  test  fails,  then  you 
may  justly  ask  for  better  credentials." 

Half  smiling,  and  quite  satisfied  from  his  words 
and  appearance  in  advance,  she  extended  the  burr 
toward  him.  But  as  she  did  so  it  parted  from  the 
stem,  and  would  have  fallen  to  the  ground  had  he  not, 
with  his  ungloved  hand,  caught  the  prickly  thing. 
His  hand  was  as  white  and  soft  as  hers,  and  the 
sharp  spines  stung  him  sorely,  yet  he  permitted  no 
sign  of  pain  to  appear  upon  his  face. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Miss  Walton,  "  I  fear  it  hurt 
you." 

He  looked  up  humorously  and  said,  "An  augury 
is  a  solemn  affair,  and  no  disrespect  must  be  allowed 
to  nature's  oracle,  which  in  this  case  is  a  chestnut 
burr;"  and  he  speedily  opened  it. 

"There!"  he  said,  triumphantly,  "what  more 
Could  you  ask?  Here  are  two  solid,  plump  chest- 


40  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

nuts,  with  only  a  false,  empty  form  of  shell  between 
them.  And  here,  like  the  solid  nuts,  are  two  people 
entitled  to  each  other's  acquaintance,  with  only  the 
false  formality  of  an  introduction,  like  the  empty 
shell,  keeping  them  apart.  Since  no  mutual  friend  is 
present  to  introduce  us,  has  not  Nature  taken  upon 
herself  the  office  through  this  chestnut  burr  ?  But 
perhaps  I  should  further  Nature's  efforts  by  giving 
you  my  card." 

As  Miss  Walton  regained  composure,  she  soon 
proved  to  Gregory  that  she  was  not  merely  a  shy 
country  girl.  At  the  close  of  his  rather  long  and 
fanciful  speech  she  said,  genially,  extending  her  hand : 
"  My  love  for  Nature  is  unbounded,  Mr.  Gregory, 
and  the  introduction  you  have  so  happily  obtained 
from  her  weighs  more  with  me  than  any  other  that 
you  could  have  had.  Let  me  welcome  you  to  your 
own  home,  as  it  were.  But  see,  your  hand  is  bleed 
ing,  where  the  burr  pricked  you.  Is  this  an  omen, 
also?  If  our  first  meeting  brings  bloody  wounds,  I 
fear  you  will  shun  further  acquaintance." 

There  was  a  spice  of  bitterness  in  Gregory's  laugh, 
as  he  said :  "  People  don't  often  die  of  such  wounds. 
But  it  is  a  little  odd  that  in  taking  your  hand  I 
should  stain  it  with  my  blood.  I  am  inclined  to 
drop  the  burr  after  all,  and  base  all  my  claims  on  my 
practical  visiting  card.  You  may  come  to  look  upon 
the  burr  as  a  warning,  rather  than  an  introduction, 
and  order  me  off  the  premises." 

^  It  was  an  omen  of  your  choice,"  replied  Miss 
Walton,  laughing.  "  You  have  more  to  fear  from  it 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR.  41 

than  I.  If  you  will  venture  to  stay  you  shall  be 
most  welcome.  Indeed,  it  almost  seems  that  you 
have  a  better  right  here  than  we,  and  your  name  has 
been  so  often  heard  that  you  are  no  stranger.  I 
know  father  will  be  very  glad  to  see  you,  for  he  often 
speaks  of  you,  and  wonders  if  you  are  like  his  old 
friend,  the  dearest  one,  I  think,  he  ever  had.  How 
long  have  you  been  here  ?  " 

"Well,  I  have  been  wandering  about  the  place 
much  of  the  afternoon." 

"  I  need  not  ask  you  why  you  did  not  come  in  at 
once,"  she  said,  gently.  "  Seeing  your  old  home 
after  so  long  an  absence  is  like  meeting  some  dear 
friend.  One  naturally  wishes  to  be  alone  for  a  time. 
But  now  I  hope  you  will  go  home  with  me." 

He  was  surprised  at  her  delicate  appreciation  of 
his  feelings,  and  gave  her  a  quick  pleased  look,  say 
ing  :  "  Nature  has  taught  you  to  be  a  good  inter 
preter,  Miss  Walton.  You  are  right.  The  memories 
of  the  old  place  were  a  little  too  much  for  me  at 
first,  and  I  did  not  know  that  those  whom  I  met 
would  appreciate  my  feelings  so  delicately." 

The  two  children  now  appeared,  running  around 
the  brow  of  the  hill,  the  boy  calling  in  great  excite 
ment  :  "  Aunt  Annie,  oh  !  Aunt  Annie,  we've  found 
a  squirrel-hole.  We  chased  him  into  it.  Can't  Susie 
sit  by  the  hole  and  keep  him  in,  while  I  go  for  a 
spade  to  dig  him  out  ?  " 

Then  they  saw  the  unlooked-for  stranger,  who  at 
once  rivalled  the  squirrel-hole  in  interest,  and  with 
slower  steps,  and  curious  glances,  they  approached. 


42  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  These  are  my  sister's  children,"  said  Miss  Walton, 
simply. 

Gregory  kindly  took  the  boy  by  the  hand,  and 
kissed  the  little  girl,  who  looked  half-frightened  and 
half-pleased,  as  a  very  little  maiden  should,  while  she 
rubbed  the  cheek  that  his  mustache  had  tickled. 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  get  the  squirrel,  Aunt 
Annie  ?  "  again  asked  the  boy. 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  be  right,  Johnny,  if  you 
could  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Suppose  you  were  the  squirrel 
in  the  hole,  and  one  big  monster,  like  Susie  here, 
should  sit  by  the  door,  and  you  heard  another  big 
monster  say,  '  Wait  till  I  get  something  to  tear  open 
his  house  with/  How  would  you  feel  ?  " 

"  I  won't  keep  the  poor  little  squirrel  in  his  hole," 
said  sympathetic  Susie. 

But  the  boy's  brow  contracted,  and  he  said,  sternly : 
"  Squirrels  are  nothing  but  robbers,  and  their  holes 
are  robbers'  dens.  They  take  half  our  nuts  every 
year." 

Miss  Walton  looked  significantly  at  Gregory,  and 
laughed,  saying,  "  There  it  is,  you  see,  man  and 
woman." 

A  momentary  shadow  crossed  his  face,  and  he 
said,  abruptly,  "  I  hope  Susie  will  be  as  kindly  in 
coming  years." 

Miss  Walton  looked  at  him  curiously  as  they 
began  to  descend  the  hill  to  the  house.  She  evi 
dently  did  not  understand  his  remark,  coupled  with 
his  manner. 

As   they  approached   the   barn    there  was   great 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR.  43 

excitement  among  the  poultry.  Passing  round  its 
angle,  Walter  saw  coming  toward  them  a  quaint- 
looking  old  woman,  in  what  appeared  to  be  a 
white  scalloped  nightcap.  She  had  a  pan  of  corn 
in  her  hand,  and  was  attended  by  a  retinue  that 
would  have  rejoiced  an  epicure's  heart.  Chickens, 
ducks,  geese,  turkeys,  and  Guinea  fowls  thronged 
around  and  after  her  with  an  intentness  on  the  grain 
and  a  disregard  of  one  another's  rights  and  feelings 
that  reminded  one  unpleasantly  of  political  aspir 
ants  just  after  a  Presidential  election.  Johnny  made 
a  dive  for  an  old  gobbler,  and  the  great  red-wattled 
bird  dropped  his  wings  and  seemed  inclined  to  show 
fight,  but  a  reluctant  armistice  was  brought  about 
between  them  by  the  old  woman  screaming: 
"  Maister  Johnny,  an'  ye  let  not  the  fowls  alone 
ye'll  ha*  na  apples  roast  the  night." 

Susie  clung  timidly  to  her  aunty's  side  as  they 
passed  through  these  clamorous  candidates  for  holi 
day  honors,  and  the  young  lady  said,  kindly,  "  You 
have  a  large  family  to  look  after,  Zibbie,  but  I'm 
afraid  we'll  lessen  it  every  day  now." 

"  Indeed,  an'  ye  will,  and  it  goes  agin  the  grain  to 
wring  the  necks  of  them  that  I've  nursed  from  the 
shell,"  said  the  old  woman,  rather  sharply. 

"It  must  be  a  great  trial  to  your  feelings,"  said 
Miss  Walton,  laughing;  "but  what  would  you  have 
us  do  with  them,  Zibbie?  You  don't  need  them  all 
for  pets." 

Before  Zibbie  could  answer,  an  old  gentleman  in 
a  low  buggy  drove  into  the  large  door-yard,  and 


44  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

the    children     bounded     toward     him,    screaming, 
"  Grandpa." 

A  colored  man  took  the  horse,  and  Mr.  Walton, 
with  a  briskness  that  one  would  not  expect  at  his 
advanced  age,  came  toward  them. 

He  was  a  noble-looking  old  man,  with  hair  and 
beard  as  white  as  snow,  and  with  the  stately  man 
ners  of  the  old  school.  When  he  learned  who 
Gregory  was  he  greeted  him  with  a  cordiality  that 
was  so  genuine  as  to  compel  the  cynical  man  of  the 
world  to  feel  its  truth. 

Mr.  Walton's  eyes  were  turned  so  often  and  wist 
fully  on  his  face  that  Gregory  was  embarrassed. 

"  I  was  looking  for  my  friend,"  said  the  old  gentle 
man,  in  a  husky  voice,  turning  hastily  away  to  hide 
his  feeling.  "You  strongly  remind  me  of  him;  and 
yet — "  But  he  never  finished  the  sentence. 

Gregory  well  understood  the  "  and  yet,"  and  in 
bitterness  of  soul  remembered  that  his  father  had 
been  a  good  man,  but  that  the  impress  of  goodness 
could  not  rest  on  his  face. 

He  had  now  grown  very  weary,  and  gave  evidence 
of  it. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  look  ill,"  said  Miss  Walton, 
hastily. 

"  I  am  not  well,"  he  said,  "  and  have  not  been  for 
a  long  time.  Perhaps  I  am  going  beyond  my 
strength  to-day." 

In  a  moment  they  were  all  solicitude.  The  driver, 
who  then  appeared  according  to  his  instructions,  was 
posted  back  to  the  hotel  for  Mr.  Gregory's  luggage, 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR.  45 

Mr.  Walton  saying,  with  hearty  emphasis  that 
removed  every  scruple,  "  This  must  be  your  home, 
sir,  as  long  as  you  can  remain  with  us,  as  truly  as 
ever  it  was." 

A  little  later  he  found  himself  in  the  "spare 
room,"  on  whose  state  he  had  rarely  intruded  when 
a  boy.  Jeff,  the  colored  man,  had  kindled  a  cheery 
wood  fire  on  the  ample  hearth,  and,  too  exhausted 
even  to  think,  Gregory  sank  back  in  a  great  easy- 
chair  with  the  blessed  sense  of  the  storm-tossed  on 
reaching  a  quiet  haven. 


CHAPTER    III. 
MORBID     BROODING. 

TO  the  millions  who  are  suffering  in  mind  or  body 
there  certainly  come  in  this  world  moments  of 
repose,  when  pain  ceases ;  and  the  respite  seems  so 
delicious  in  contrast  that  it  may  well  suggest  the 
"  rest  that  remaineth."  Thinking  of  neither  the 
past  nor  the  future,  Gregory  for  a  little  time  gave 
himself  up  to  the  sense  of  present  and  luxurious 
comfort.  With  closed  eyes  and  mind  almost  as 
quiet  as  his  motionless  body,  he  let  the  moments 
pass,  feeling  dimly  that  he  would  ask  no  better 
heaven  than  the  eternal  continuance  of  this  painless, 
half-dreaming  lethargy. 

He  was  soon  aroused,  however,  by  a  knocking  at 
the  door,  and  a  middle-aged  servant  placed  before 
him  a  tempting  plate  of  Albert  biscuit  and  a  glass 
of  home-made  currant  wine  of  indefinite  age.  The 
quaint  and  dainty  little  lunch  caught  his  appetite  as 
exactly  as  if  manna  had  fallen  adapted  to  his  need  ; 
but  it  soon  stimulated  him  out  of  his  condition  of 
partial  non-existence.  With  returning  consciousness 
of  the  necessity  of  living  and  acting  came  the  strong 
desire  to  spend  as  much  of  his  vacation  as  possible 
in  his'  old  home,  and  he  determined  to  avail  himself 


MORBID  BROODING.  47 

of  Mr.  Walton's  invitation  to  the  utmost  limit  that 
etiquette  would  permit. 

His  awakened  mind  gave  but  little  thought  to  his 
entertainers,  and  he  did  not  anticipate  much  pleasure 
from  their  society.  He  was  satisfied  that  they  were 
refined,  cultivated  people,  with  whom  he  could  be  as 
much  at  ease  as  would  be  possible  in  any  companion 
ship,  but  he  hoped  and  proposed  to  spend  the  most 
of  his  time  alone  in  wandering  amid  old  scenes  and 
brooding  over  the  past.  The  morbid  mind  is  ever 
full  of  unnatural  contradictions,  and  he  found  a 
melancholy  pleasure  in  shutting  his  eyes  to  the 
future  and  recalling  the  time  when  he  had  been 
happy  and  hopeful.  In  his  egotism  he  found  more 
that  interested  him  in  his  past  and  vanished  self 
than  in  the  surrounding  world.  Evil  and  ill-health 
had  so  enfeebled  his  body,  narrowed  his  mind,  and 
blurred  the  future,  that  his  best  solace  seemed  a  vain 
and  sentimental  recalling  of  the  crude  yet  compara 
tively  happy  period  of  childhood. 

This  is  sorry  progress.  A  man  must  indeed  have 
lived  radically  wrong  when  he  looks  backward  for  the 
best  of  his  life.  Gray-haired  Mr.  Walton  was  looking 
forward.  Gregory's  habit  of  self-pleasing — of  acting 
according  to  his  mood — was  too  deeply  seated  to 
permit  even  the  thought  of  returning  the  hospitality 
he  hoped  to  enjoy  by  a  cordial  effort  on  his  part  to 
prove  himself  an  agreeable  guest.  Polite  he  ever 
would  be,  for  he  had  the  instincts  and  training  of  a 
gentleman,  in  society's  interpretation  of  the  word, 
but  he  had  lost  the  power  to  feel  a  generous  solid- 


48  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

tude  for  the  feelings  and  happiness  of  others. 
Indeed,  he  rather  took  a  cynical  pleasure  in  discov 
ering  defects  in  the  character  of  those  around  him. 
and  in  learning  that  their  seeming  enjoyment  of  life 
was  but  hollow  and  partial.  Conscious  of  being  evil 
himself,  he  liked  to  think  others  were  not  much 
better,  or  would  not  be  if  tempted.  Therefore,  with 
a  gloomy  scepticism,  he  questioned  all  the  seeming 
happiness  and  goodness  he  saw.  "  It  is  either  unreal 
or  untried,"  he  was  wont  to  say  bitterly. 

About  seven  o'clock,  Hannah,  the  waitress,  again 
appeared,  saying:  "  Supper  is  ready,  but  the  ladies 
beg  you  will  not  come  down  unless  you  feel  able.  I 
can  bring  up  your  tea  if  you  wish." 

Thinking  first  and  only  of  self,  he  at  once  decided 
not  to  go  down.  He  felt  sufficiently  rested  and 
revived,  but  was  in  no  mood  for  commonplace  talk 
to  comparative  strangers.  His  cosey  chair,  glowing 
fire,  and  listless  ease  were  much  better  than  noisy 
children,  inquisitive  ladies,  and  the  unconscious 
reproach  of  Mr.  Walton's  face,  as  he  would  look  in 
vain  for  the  lineaments  of  his  lost  friend.  There 
fore  he  said,  suavely  :  "  Please  say  to  the  ladies  that 
I  am  so  wearied  that  I  should  make  but  a  dull  com 
panion,  and  so  for  their  sakes,  as  well  as  my  own, 
had  better  not  leave  my  room  this  evening." 

It  is  the  perfection  of  art  in  selfishness  to  make  it 
appear  as  if  you  were  thinking  only  of  others.  This 
was  the  design  of  Walter's  polite  message.  Soon  a 
bit  of  tender  steak,  a  roast  potato,  tea,  and  toast 
were  smoking  appetizingly  beside  him,  and  he  con. 


MORBID  BROODING.  49 

gratulated  himself  that  he  had  escaped  the  bore  of 
company  for  one  evening. 

Notwithstanding  his  misanthropy  and  cherished 
desolation  the  supper  was  so  inviting  that  he  was 
tempted  to  partake  of  it  heartily.  Then  incasing 
himself  in  his  ample  dressing-gown  he  placed  his 
slippered  feet  on  the  fender  before  a  cheery  fire, 
lighted  a  choice  Havana,  and  proceeded  to  be  miser 
able  after  the  fashion  that  indulged  misery  often 
affects. 

Hannah  quietly  removed  the  tea-tray,  and  Mr. 
Walton  came  up  and  courteously  inquired  if  there 
was  anything  that  would  add  to  his  guest's  comfort. 

"  After  a  few  hours  of  rest  and  quiet  I  hope  I 
shall  be  able  to  make  a  better  return  for  your  hospi 
tality,"  Gregory  rejoined,  with  equal  politeness. 

"  Oh,  do  not  feel  under  any  obligation  to  exert 
yourself,"  said  kind  Mr.  Walton.  "  In  order  to 
derive  full  benefit  from  your  vacation,  you  must 
simply  rest  and  follow  your  moods." 

This  view  of  the  case  suited  Gregory  exactly,  and 
the  prospect  of  a  visit  at  his  old  home  grew  still 
more  inviting.  When  he  was  left  alone,  he  gave  him 
self  up  wholly  to  the  memories  of  the  past. 

At  first  it  was  with  a  pleasurable  pain  that  he 
recalled  his  former  life.  With  an  imagination  natu 
rally  strong  he  lived  it  all  over  again,  from  the  date 
of  his  first  recollections.  In  the  curling  flames  and 
glowing  coals  on  the  hearth  a  panorama  passed 
before  him.  He  saw  a  joyous  child,  a  light-hearted 
boy,  and  a  sanguine  youth,  with  the  shifting  and 


50  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

familiar  scenery  of  well -remembered  experience. 
Time  softened  the  pictures,  and  the  harsh,  rough 
outlines  which  exist  in  every  truthful  portraiture  of 
life  were  lost  in  the  haze  of  distance.  The  gentle 
but  steady  light  of  mother  love,  and  through  her  a 
pale,  half-recognized  reflection  of  the  love  of  God, 
illumined  all  those  years ;  and  his  father's  strong, 
quiet  affection  made  a  background  anything  but 
dark.  He  had  been  naturally  what  is  termed  a  very 
good  boy,  full  of  generous  impulses.  There  had 
been  no  lack  of  ordinary  waywardness  or  of  the 
faults  of  youth,  but  they  showed  a  tendency  to 
yield  readily  to  the  correcting  influence  of  love. 
Good  impulses,  however,  are  not  principles,  and  may 
give  way  to  stronger  impulses  of  evil.  If  the  influ 
ences  of  his  early  home  had  alone  followed  him,  he 
would  not  now  be  moodily  recalling  the  past  as  the 
exiled  convict  might  watch  the  shores  of  his  native 
land  recede. 

And  then,  as  in  his  prolonged  revery  the  fire 
burned  low,  and  the  ruddy  coals  turned  to  ashes, 
the  past  faded  into  distance,  and  his  present  life,  dull 
and  leaden,  rose  before  him,  and  from  regretful 
memories  that  were  not  wholly  painful  he  passed  to 
that  bitterness  of  feeling  which  ever  comes  when 
hope  is  giving  place  to  despair. 

The  fire  flickered  out  and  died,  his  head  drooped 
lower  and  lower,  while  the  brooding  frown  upon  his 
brow  darkened  almost  into  a  scowl.  Outwardly  he 
made  a  sad  picture  for  a  young  man  in  the  prime  of 
life,  but  to  Him  who  looks  at  the  attitude  of  the 


MORBID  BROODING.  51 

soul,   wnat   but   unutterable   love   kept    him   from 
appearing  absolutely  revolting  ? 

Suddenly,  like  light  breaking  into  a  vault,  a  few 
notes  of  prelude  were  struck  upon  the  piano  in  the 
parlor  below,  and  a  sweet  voice,  softened  by  distance 
sung, 

"  Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee. 

How  often  he  had  heard  the  familiar  word*  and 
music  in  that  same  home !  They  seemed  to  crown 
and  complete  all  the  memories  of  the  place,  but  they 
reminded  him  more  clearly  than  ever  before  that  its 
most  inseparable  associations  were  holy,  hopeful,  and 
suggestive  of  a  faith  that  he  seemed  to  have  lost  as 
utterly  as  if  it  had  been  a  gem  dropped  into  the 
ocean. 

He  had  lived  in  foreign  lands  far  from  his  birth 
place,  but  the  purpose  to  return  ever  dwelt  pleasur- 
ably  in  his  mind.  But  how  could  he  cross  the  gulf 
that  yawned  between  him  and  the  faith  of  his 
childhood  ?  Was  there  really  anything  beyond  that 
gulf  save  what  the  credulous  imagination  had  crea 
ted  ?  Instinctively  he  felt  that  there  was,  for  he 
was  honest  enough  with  himself  to  remember  that 
his  scepticism  was  the  result  of  an  evil  life  and  the 
influence  of  an  unbelieving  world,  rather  than  the 
outcome  of  patient  investigation.  The  wish  was 
father  to  the  thought. 

Yet  sweet,  unfaltering,  and  clear  as  the  voice  of 
faith  ever  should  be,  the  hymn  went  forward  in  the 


5*  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

room  below,  his  memory  supplying  the  well-known 
words  that  were  lost  from  remoteness  : — 

"  When  mine  eyelids  close  in  death, 
When  I  soar  to  worlds  unknown." 

"  Oh,  when  ! '"  he  exclaimed,  bitterly.  "  What 
shall  be  my  experience  then?  If  I  continue  to  fail 
in  health  as  I  have  of  late  I  shall  know  cursedly 
soon.  That  must  be  Miss  Walton  singing.  Though 
she  does  not  realize  it,  to  me  this  is  almost  as  cruel 
mockery  as  if  an  angel  sang  at  the  gates  of  hell." 

The  music  ceased,  and  the  monotone  of  one  read 
ing  followed. 

41  Family  prayers  as  of  old,"  he  muttered.  "  How 
everything  conspires  to-day  to  bring  my  home-life 
back  again !  and  yet  there  is  a  fatal  lack  of  something 
that  is  harder  to  endure  than  the  absence  of  my  own 
kindred  and  vanished  youth.  I  doubt  whether  I  can 
stay  here  long  after  all.  Will  not  the  mocking  fable 
of  Tantalus  be  repeated  constantly,  as  I  see  others 
drinking  daily  at  a  fountain  which  though  appar 
ently  so  near  is  ever  beyond  my  reach  ?  " 

Shivering  with  the  chill  of  the  night  and  the 
deeper  chill  at  heart,  he  retired  to  troubled  sleep 


CHAPTER    IV. 

HOW   MISS  WALTON  MANAGED  PEOPLE. 

REST,  and  the  sunny  light  and  bracing  air  of  the 
following  morning,  banished  much  of  Gregory's 
moodiness,  and  he  descended  the  stairs  proposing  to 
dismiss  painful  thoughts  and  get  what  comfort  and 
semblance  of  enjoyment  he  could  out  of  the  passing 
hours.  Mr.  Walton  met  him  cordially — indeed  with 
almost  fatherly  solicitude — and  led  him  at  once  to 
the  dining-room,  where  an  inviting  breakfast  awaited 
them.  Miss  Walton  also  was  genial,  and  introduced 
Miss  Eulalia  Morton,  a  maiden  sister  of  her  mother. 
Miss  Eulie,  as  she  was  familiarly  called,  was  a  pale, 
delicate  little  lady,  with  a  face  sweetened  rather  than 
hardened  and  imbittered  by  time.  If,  as  some 
believe,  the  flesh  and  the  spirit,  the  soul  and  the 
body,  are  ever  at  variance,  she  gave  the  impression 
at  first  glance  that  the  body  was  getting  the  worst  of 
the  conflict.  But  in  truth  the  faintest  thoughts  of 
strife  seemed  to  have  no  association  with  her  what 
ever.  She  appeared  so  light  and  aerial  that  one 
could  imagine  her  flying  over  the  rough  places  of 
life,  and  vanishing  when  any  one  opposed  her. 

Miss  Walton  reversed  all  this,  for  she  was  decid- 


54  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

edly  substantial.  She  was  of  only  medium  height, 
but  a  fine  figure  made  her  appear  taller  than  she  was. 
She  immediately  gave  the  impression  of  power  and 
reserve  force.  You  felt  this  in  her  quick,  elastic 
step,  saw  it  in  her  decided  though  not  abrupt  move 
ments,  and  heard  it  in  her  tone.  Even  the  noncha 
lant  Mr.  Gregory  could  not  ignore  her  in  his  customary 
polite  manner,  though  quiet  refinement  and  peculiar 
unobtrusiveness  seemed  her  characteristics.  She  won 
attention,  not  because  she  sought  it,  nor  on  the 
ground  of  eccentricities,  but  because  of  her  intense 
vitality.  From  her  dark  eyes  a  close  observer  might 
catch  glimpses  of  a  quick,  active  mind,  an  eager 
spirit,  and  —  well,  perhaps  a  passionate  temper. 
Though  chastened  and  subdued,  she  ever  gave  the 
impression  of  power  to  those  who  came  to  know  her 
well.  In  certain  ways,  as  they  interpreted  her, 
people  acknowledged  this  force  of  character.  Some 
spoke  of  her  as  very  lively,  others  as  exceedingly 
energetic  and  willing  to  enter  on  any  good  work. 
Some  thought  her  ambitious,  else  why  was  she  so 
prominent  in  church  matters,  and  so  ready  to  visit 
the  sick  and  poor?  They  could  explain  this  in  but 
one  way.  And  some  looked  knowingly  at  each 
other  and  said,  "  I  wonder  if  she  is  always  as  smiling 
and  sweet  as  when  in  society ; "  and  then  followed 
shaking  of  heads  which  intimated,  "  Look  out  for 
sudden  gusts." 

Again,  as  in  simple  morning  wrapper  she  turned 
to  greet  Gregory,  she  gave  him  the  impression  of 
something  like  beauty.  But  his  taste,  rendered  criti- 


HOW  MISS  WALTON  MANAGED  PEOPLE.          55 

cal  by  much  observation  both  at  home  and  abroad, 
at  once  told  him  that  he  was  mistaken. 

"  The  expression  is  well  enough,"  he  thought, 
"  but  she  has  not  a  single  perfect  feature — not  one 
that  an  artist  would  copy,  except  perhaps  the  eyes, 
and  even  they  are  not  soft  and  Madonna-like." 

He  had  a  sybarite's  eye  for  beauty,  and  an  intense 
admiration  for  it.  At  the  same  time  he  was  too 
intellectual  to  be  satisfied  with  the  mere  sensuous 
type.  And  yet,  when  he  decided  that  a  woman  was 
not  pretty,  she  ceased  to  interest  him.  His  exacting 
taste  required  no  small  degree  of  outward  perfection 
crowned  by  ready  wit  and  society  polish.  With 
those  so  endowed  he  had  frequently  amused  himself 
in  New  York  and  Paris  by  a  passing  flirtation  since 
the  politic  Miss  Bently  had  made  him  a  sceptic  in 
regard  to  women.  All  his  intercourse  with  society 
had  confirmed  his  cynicism.  The  most  beautiful 
and  brilliant  in  the  drawing-rooms  were  seldom  the 
best.  He  flattered  them  to  their  faces  and  sneered 
at  them  in  his  heart.  Therefore  his  attentions  were 
merely  of  a  nature  to  excite  their  vanity,  stimulated 
by  much  incense  from  other  sources.  He  saw  this 
plainly  manifested  trait,  which  he  contributed  to 
develop,  and  despised  it.  He  also  saw  that  many 
were  as  eager  for  a  good  match  as  ever  the  adored 
Miss  Bently  had  been,  and  that,  while  they  liked  his 
compliments,  they  cared  not  for  him.  Why  should 
they?  Insincere  and  selfish  himself,  why  should  he 
expect  to  awaken  better  feelings  on  the  part  of  those 
who  were  anything  but  unsophisticated,  and  from 


56  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

knowledge  of  the  world  could  gauge  him  at  his  true 
worth  ?  Not  even  a  sentimental  girl  would  show 
her  heart  to  such  a  man.  And  yet  with  the  blind 
egotism  of  selfishness  he  smiled  grimly  at  their 
apparent  heartlessness  and  said,  "  Such  is  woman." 

At  the  same  time  it  must  in  justice  be  said  that  he 
tlespised  men  in  general  quite  as  sincerely.  "  Human 
nature  is  wretched  stuff,"  had  come  to  be  the  first 
article  in  his  creed. 

In  regard  to  Miss  Walton  he  concluded  :  "  She 
as  a  goodish  girl,  more  of  a  lady  than  the  average, 
pious  and  orthodox,  an  excellent  housekeeper,  and 
j.  great  comfort  to  her  father,  no  doubt.  She  is  safe 
/rom  her  very  plainness,  though  confident,  of  course, 
that  she  could  resist  temptation  and  be  a  saint  under 
all  circumstances ; "  and  he  dismissed  her  from  his 
mind  with  a  sort  of  inward  groan  and  protest  against 
the  necessity  of  making  himself  agreeable  to  her 
during  his  visit. 

He  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  disguise  his 
face  as  he  made  these  brief  critical  observations,  and 
quick-witted  Annie  gathered  something  of  the  drift 
of  his  thoughts,  as  she  stole  a  few  glances  at  him 
from  behind  the  coffee-urn.  It  piqued  her  pride  a 
little,  and  she  was  disappointed  in  him,  for  she  had 
hoped  for  a  pleasant  addition  to  their  society  for  a 
time.  But  she  was  so  supremely  indifferent  to  him, 
and  had  so  much  to  fill  her  thoughts  and  days,  that 
his  slight  promise  to  prove  an  agreeable  visitor 
caused  but  momentary  annoyance.  Yet  the  glim 
mer  of  a  smile  flitted  across  her  face  as  she  thought: 


HOW  MISS  WALTON  MANAGED  PEOPLE.          57 

"  He  may  find  himself  slightly  mistaken  in  me  after 
all.  His  face  seems  to  say,  '  No  doubt  she  is  a 
good  young  woman,  and  well  enough  for  this  slow 
country  place,  but  she  has  no  beauty,  no  style.'  I 
think  I  can  manage  to  disturb  the  even  current  of 
iiis  vanity,  if  his  visit  is  long  enough,  and  he  shall 
learn  at  least  that  I  shall  not  gape  admiringly  at  his 
artificial  metropolitan  airs." 

Her  manner  toward  Gregory  remained  full  of 
kindness  and  grace,  but  she  made  no  effort  to  secure 
his  attention  and  engage  him  in  conversation,  as  he 
had  feared  she  would  do.  She  acted  as  if  she  were 
accustomed  to  see  such  persons  as  himself  at  her 
father's  breakfast-table  every  morning  ;  and,  though 
habitually  wrapped  up  in  his  own  personality,  he 
soon  became  dimly  conscious  that  her  course  toward 
him  was  not  what  he  had  expected. 

Miss  Eulie  was  all  solicitude  in  view  of  his  charac 
ter  of  invalid ;  and  the  children  looked  at  him  with 
curious  eyes  and  growing  disapprobation.  There 
was  nothing  in  him  to  secure  their  instinctive  friend 
ship,  and  he  made  no  effort  to  win  their  sympathies. 

The  morning  meal  began  with  a  reverent  looking 
to  heaven  for  God's  blessing  on  the  gifts  which  were 
acknowledged  as  coming  from  Him  ;  and  even  Greg 
ory  was  compelled  to  admit  that  the  brief  rite  did 
not  appear  like  a  careless  signing  of  the  cross,  or  a 
shrivelled  form  from  which  spirit  and  meaning  had 
departed,  but  a  sincere  expression  of  loving  trust 
gratitude. 

During  the  greater  part  of  the  meal,  Mr.  Walton 


$8  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

dweh  >n  the  circumstances  that  had  led  to  his 
friendship  with  Gregory's  father,  but  at  last  the  con 
versation  flagged  a  little,  since  the  young  man  made 
so  slight  effort  to  maintain  it. 

Suddenly  Mr.  Walton  turned  to  his  daughter  and 
said,  "  By  the  way,  Annie,  you  have  not  told  me 
where  you  found  Mr.  Gregory,  for  my  impression  is 
that  you  brought  him  down  from  the  hills." 

"  I  was  about  to  say  that  I  found  him  in  a  chest 
nut  burr,"  replied  Annie,  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye. 
"At  least  I  found  a  stranger  by  the  cedar  thicket, 
and  he  proved  from  a  chestnut  burr  who  he  was,  and 
his  right  to  acquaintance,  with  a  better  logic  than  I 
supposed  him  capable  of." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  asked  Gregory,  quickly,  feeling  the 
prick  of  her  last  words ;  "  on  what  ground  were  you 
led  to  estimate  my  logic  so  slightingly  ?  " 

"  On  merely  general  grounds ;  but  you  see  I  am 
open  to  all  evidence  in  your  favor.  City  life  no 
doubt  has  great  advantages,  but  it  also  has  greater 
drawbacks." 

"What  are  they?" 

"  I  cannot  think  of  them  all  now.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  if  you  had  always  lived  in  the  city  you 
could  not  have  interpreted  a  chestnut  burr  PC 
gracefully.  Many  there  seem  to  forget  Nature's 
lore." 

"  But  may  they  not  learn  other  things  more  val 
uable?" 

Miss  Walton  shook  her  head,  and  said,  with  a 
laugh:  "An  ignorant  exhorter  once  stated  to  his 


HO  W  MISS  WA  L  TON  MAN  A  GED  PEOPLE.         5  9 

little  schoolhouse  audience  that  Paul  was  brought  up 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  Gamaliel.  I  almost  wish  he 
were  right,  for  I  should  have  had  more  confidence  in 
the  teachings  of  the  hill  than  in  those  of  the  narrow 
minded  Jewish  Rabbi." 

"  And  yet  you  regard  Paul  as  the  very  chief  of 
the  apostles." 

"  He  became  such  after  he  was  taught  of  Him  who 
teaches  through  the  hills  and  nature  gen&vally." 

"  My  daughter  is  an  enthusiast  for  nature," 
remarked  Mr.  Walton. 

"  If  the  people  are  the  same  as  when  I  was  here  a 
boy,  the  hills  have  not  taught  the  majority  very 
much,"  said  Gregory,  with  a  French  shrug. 

"  Many  of  them  have  a  better  wisdom  than  you 
think,"  answered  Annie,  quietly. 

"  In  what  does  it  consist  ?  " 

"  Well,  for  one  thing  they  know  how  to  enjoy  life 
and  add  to  the  enjoyment  of  others." 

Gregory  looked  at  her  keenly  for  a  moment,  but 
saw  nothing  to  lead  him  to  think  that  she  was  speak 
ing  on  other  than  general  principles ;  but  he  said,  a 
little  moodily,  as  they  rose  from  the  table,  "  That 
certainly  is  a  better  wisdom  than  is  usually  attained 
in  either  city  or  country." 

"  It  is  not  our  custom  to  make  company  of  ouf 
friends,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  cordially.  "WTe  hope  you 
will  feel  completely  at  home,  and  come  and  go  as  you 
like,  and  do  just  what  you  find  agreeable.  We  dine 
at  two,  and  have  an  early  supper  on  account  of  the 
children.  There  asv.  one  or  two  fair  saddle  horses  on 


60  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

the  place,  but  if  you  do  not  feel  strong  enough  to 
ride,  Annie  can  drive  you  out,  and  I  assure  you  she 
is  at  home  in  the  management  of  a  horse." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  echoed  the  little  boy.  "Aunt 
Annie  can  manage  anything  or  anybody." 

"  That  is  a  remarkable  power,"  said  Gregory,  with 
an  amused  look  and  a  side  glance  at  the  young  girl. 
"  How  does  she  do  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  boy ;  "  she 
makes  them  love  her,  and  then  they  want  to  do  as 
she  says." 

A  momentary  wrathful  gleam  shot  from  Annie's 
eyes  at  her  indiscreet  little  champion,  but  with 
heightened  color  she  joined  in  the  laugh  that  fol 
lowed. 

Gregory  had  the  ill  grace  to  say  with  a  sort  of 
mocking  gallantry,  as  he  bowed  himself  out,  "It 
must  be  delightful  to  be  managed  on  such  terms." 


CHAPTER  V. 

WAS  IT  AN  ACCIDENT? 

F)UTTING  on  a  light  overcoat,  for  the  morning 
1  air  was  sharp  and  bracing,  Gregory  soon  found 
himself  in  the  old  square  garden.  Though  its  glory 
was  decidedly  on  the  wane,  it  was  as  yet  unnipped 
by  the  frost.  It  had  a  neatness  and  an  order  of  its 
own  that  were  quite  unlike  those  where  nature  is  in 
entire  subordination  to  art.  Indeed  it  looked  very 
much  as  he  remembered  it  in  the  past,  and  he  wel 
comed  its  unchanged  aspect.  He  strolled  to  many 
other  remembered  boyish  haunts,  and  it  seemed  that 
the  very  lichens  and  mosses  grew  in  the  same  places 
as  of  old,  and  that  nature  had  stood  still  and  awaited 
his  return. 

And  yet  every  familiar  object  chided  him  for 
being  so  changed,  and  he  began  to  find  more  of  pain 
than  pleasure  as  this  contrast  between  what  he  had 
been  and  what  he  might  have  been  was  constantly 
forced  upon  him. 

"  Oh  that  I  had  never  left  this  place !  "  he  ex 
claimed,  bitterly :  "  It  would  have  been  better  to 
stay  here  and  drudge  as  a  day  laborer.  What  has 
that  career  out  in  the  world  to  which  I  looked  for 
ward  so  ardently  amounted  to  ?  The  present  is  dis- 


62  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

appointment  and  self-disgust,  the  future  an  indefinite 
region  of  fears  and  forebodings,  and  even  the  happy 
past  is  becoming  a  bitter  mockery  by  reminding  me 
of  what  can  never  be  again." 

Wearied  and  despondent,  he  moodily  returned  to 
the  house  and  threw  himself  on  a  lounge  in  the  par 
lor.  A  smouldering  wood  fire  upon  the  hearth  soft 
ened  the  air  to  summer  temperature.  The  heat 
was  grateful  to  his  chilled,  bloodless  body,  and  gave 
him  a  luxurious  sense  of  physical  comfort,  and  he 
muttered  :  "  I  had  about  resolved  to  leave  this  place 
with  its  memories  that  are  growing  into  torment,  but 
I  suppose  it  would  be  the  same  anywhere  else.  I 
am  too  weak  and  ill  to  face  new  scenes  and  discom 
fort.  A  little  animal  enjoyment  and  bodily  respite 
from  pain  seem  about  all  that  is  left  to  me  of  exist 
ence,  and  I  think  I  can  find  these  here  better  than 
elsewhere.  If  I  am  expected,  however,  to  fall  under 
the  management  of  the  daughter  of  the  house  on  the 
terms  blurted  out  by  that  fidgety  nephew  of  hers,  I 
will  fly  for  my  life.  A  plague  on  him  !  His  rest 
lessness  makes  me  nervous.  If  I  could  endure  a 
child  at  all,  the  blue-eyed  little  girl  would  make  a 
pretty  toy." 

Sounds  from  the  sitting-room  behind  the  parlor 
now  caught  his  attention,  and  listening  he  soon 
became  aware  that  Miss  Walton  was  teaching  the 
children. 

"  She  has  just  the  voice  for  a  '  schoolmarm,' "  he 
thought, — "  quick,  clear  cut,  and  decided." 

If  he  had  not  given  way  to  unreasonable  prejudice 


WA  S  IT  AN  A  CCIDENT,  63 

he  might  also  have  noted  that  there  was  nothing 
harsh  or  querulous  in  it. 

"  With  her  management  and  love  of  nature,  she 
doubtless  thinks  herself  the  personification  of  good 
ness.  I  suppose  I  shall  be  well  lectured  before  I 
get  away.  I  had  a  foretaste  of  it  this  morning. 
'  Drawbacks  of  city  life,'  forsooth  !  She  no  doubt 
regards  me  as  a  result  of  these  disadvantages.  But 
if  she  should  come  to  deem  it  her  mission  to  convert 
or  reform  me,  then  will  be  lost  my  small  remnant  of 
peace  and  comfort." 

But  weakness  and  weariness  soon  inclined  him  to 
sleep.  Miss  Walton's  voice  sounded  far  away.  Then 
it  passed  into  his  dream  as  that  of  Miss  Bently  chid 
ing  him  affectedly  for  his  wayward  tendencies ;  again 
it  was  explaining  that  conscientious  young  lady's 
"sense  of  duty"  in  view  of  Mr.  Grobb's  offer,  and 
even  in  his  sleep  his  face  darkened  with  pain  and 
wrath. 

Just  then,  school  hours  being  over,  Miss  Walton 
came  into  the  parlor.  For  a  moment,  as  she 
stood  by  the  fire,  she  did  not  notice  its  unconscious 
occupant.  Then,  seeing  him,  she  was  about  to 
leave  the  room  noiselessly,  when  the  expression  of 
his  face  arrested  her  steps. 

If  Annie  Walton's  eyes  suggested  the  probability 
of  "sudden  gusts,"  they  also  at  times  announced  a 
warm,  kind  heart,  for  as  she  looked  at  him  now  her 
face  instantly  softened  to  pity. 

"  Good  he  is  not,"  she  thought,  "  but  he  evidently 
suffers  in  his  evil.  Something  is  blighting  his  life, 


64  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  what  can  blight  a  life  save  evil  ?  Perhaps  I  had 
better  change  my  proposed  crusade  against  his  van- 
ityand  cynicism  to  a  kind,  sisterly  effort  toward  mak 
ing  him  a  better  and  therefore  a  happier  man.  It  will 
soon  come  out  in  conversation  that  I  have  long  been 
the  same  as  engaged  to  another,  and  this  will  relieve 
me  of  absurd  suspicions  of  designs  upon  him.  If  I 
could  win  a  friendly  confidence  on  his  part,  I'm  sure 
I  could  tell  him  some  wholesome  truths,  for  even 
an  enemy  could  scarcely  look  on  that  face  without 
relenting." 

There  was  nothing  slow  or  cumbrous  about  Annie. 
These  thoughts  had  flashed  through  her  mind  during 
the  brief  moment  in  which  her  eyes  softened  from 
surprise  into  sympathy  as  they  caught  the  expres 
sion  of  Gregory's  face.  Then,  fearing  to  disturb 
him,  with  silent  tread  she  passed  out  to  her  wonted 
morning  duties. 

How  seemingly  accidental  was  that  visit  to  the 
parlor !  Its  motive  indefinite  and  forgotten.  Ap 
parently  it  was  but  a  trivial  episode  of  an  uneventful 
day,  involving  no  greater  catastrophe  than  the  mo 
mentary  rousing  of  a  sleeper  who  would  doze  again. 
But  what  day  can  we  with  certainty  call  uneventful  ? 
and  what  episode  trivial  ?  Those  half-aimless,  pur 
poseless  steps  of  Annie  Walton  into  the  quiet  parlor 
might  lead  to  results  that  would  radically  change 
the  endless  future  of  several  lives. 

In  her  womanly,  pitying  nature,  had  not  God  sent 
His  angel?  If  a  viewless  "ministering  spirit,"  as 
the  sinful  man's  appointed  guardian,  was  present,  as 


WAS  IT  AN  ACCIDENT.  65 

many  believe  is  the  case  with  every  one,  how  truly 
he  must  have  welcomed  this  unselfish  human  com- 
panionship  in  his  loving  labor  to  save  life  ;  for  only 
they  who  rescue  from  sin  truly  save  life. 

And  yet  the  sleeper,  even  in  his  dreams,  was  evi 
dently  at  war  with  himself,  the  world,  and  God.  He 
was  an  example  of  the  truth  that  good  comes  from 
without  and  not  from  within  us.  It  is  heaven  stoop 
ing  to  men ;  heaven's  messengers  sent  to  us ;  truth 
quickened  in  our  minds  by  heavenly  influence,  even 
as  sunlight  and  rain  awaken  into  beautiful  life  the 
seeds  hidden  in  the  soil ;  and,  above  all,  impulses 
direct  from  God,  that  steal  into  our  hearts  as  the 
south  wind  penetrates  ice-bound  gardens  in  spring. 

But,  alas !  multitudes  like  Walter  Gregory  blind 
their  eyes  and  steel  their  hearts  against  such  influ 
ences.  God  and  those  allied  to  Him  longed  to  bring 
the  healing  of  faith  and  love  to  his  wounded  spirit. 
He  scowled  back  his  answer,  and,  as  he  then  felt, 
would  shrink  with  morbid  sensitiveness  and  dislike 
from  the  kindest  and  most  delicate  presentation  of 
the  transforming  truth.  But  the  divine  love  is  ever 
seeking  to  win  our  attention  by  messengers  innu 
merable  ;  now  by  the  appalling  storm,  again  by  a 
summer  sunset ;  now  by  an  awful  providence,  again 
by  a  great  joy ;  at  times  by  stern  prophets  and 
teachers,  but  more  often  by  the  gentle  human  agen 
cies  of  which  Annie  was  the  type,  as  with  pitying 
iace  she  bent  over  the  worn  and  jaded  man  of  the 
world  and  hoped  and  prayed  that  she  might  be  able 
to  act  the  part  of  a  true  sister  toward  him.  Thorny 


66  OPENING  A  CHES7WUT  BURR. 

and  guarded  was  every  avenue  to  his  heart ;  and  yet 
her  feminine  tact,  combined  with  the  softening  and 
purifying  influence  of  his  old  home,  might  gain  her 
words  acceptance,  where  the  wisest  and  most  elo 
quent  would  plead  in  vain. 

After  dinner  he  again  hastened  forth  for  a  walk, 
his  purpose  being  to  avoid  company,  for  he  was  so 
moody  and  morbid,  so  weak,  nervous,  and  irritable, 
that  the  thought  of  meeting  and  decorously  con 
versing  with  those  whose  lives  and  character  were  a 
continual  reproach  to  him  was  intolerable.  Then  he 
had  the  impression  that  the  "  keen-eyed,  plain- 
featured  Miss  Walton,"  as  he  characterized  her  in 
his  mind,  would  surely  commence  discoursing  on 
moral  and  religious  subjects  if  he  gave  her  a  chance  ; 
and  he  feared  that  if  she  did,  he  would  say  or  do 
something  very  rude,  and  confirm  the  bad  impression 
that  he  was  sure  of  having  already  made.  If  he 
could  have  strolled  into  his  club,  and  among  groups 
engaged  with  cards,  papers,  and  city  gossip,  he  would 
have  felt  quite  at  home.  Ties  formed  at  such  a  place 
are  not  very  strong  as  a  usual  thing,  and  the  manner 
of  the  world  can  isolate  the  members  and  their  real 
life  completely,  even  when  the  rooms  are  thronged. 
As  Gregory  grew  worn  and  thin  and  his  pallor 
increased,  as  he  smoked  and  brooded  more  and 
more  apart,  his  companions  would  shrug  their  shoul 
ders  significantly  and  whisper,  "  It  looks  as  if  Gregory 
would  go  under  soon.  Something's  the  matter  with 
him." 

At   first   good-natured   men  would  say,    "Come, 


WAS  IT  AN  A CCIDENT.  6 7 

Gregory,  take  a  hand  with  us,"  but  when  he  com- 
plied  it  was  with  such  a  listless  manner  that  they 
were  sorry  they  had  asked  him.  At  last,  beyond 
mere  passing  courtesies,  they  had  come  to  leave  him 
very  much  alone  ;  and  in  his  unnatural  and  perverted 
state  this  was  just  what  he  most  desired.  His  whole 
being  had  become  a  diseased,  sensitive  nerve,  shrink- 
ing  most  from  any  effort  toward  his  improvement, 
even  as  a  finger  pointed  at  a  festering  wound  causes 
anticipatory  agonies. 

At  the  club  he  would  be  let  alone,  but  these  good 
people  would  "  take  an  interest  in  him,"  and  might 
even  "  talk  religion,"  and  probe  with  questions  and 
surmises.  If  they  did,  he  knew,  from  what  he  had 
already  seen  of  them,  that  they  would  try  to  do  it 
delicately  and  kindly,  but  he  felt  that  the  most  con 
siderate  efforts  would  be  like  the  surgical  instruments 
of  the  dark  ages.  He  needed  good,  decisive,  heroic 
treatment.  But  who  would  have  the  courage  and 
skill  to  give  it  ?  Who  cared  enough  for  him  to  take 
the  trouble? 

Not  merely  had  Annie  Walton  looked  with  eyes 
of  human  pity  upon  his  sin-marred  visage  that 
morning.  The  Divine  personality,  enthroned  in  the 
depths  of  her  soul  and  permeating  her  life,  looked 
commiseratingly  forth  also.  Could  demons  glare 
from  human  eyes  and  God  not  smile  from  them  ? 

As  Annie  thought  much  of  him  after  her  stolen 
glance  in  the  morning,  she  longed  to  do  that  which 
he  dreaded  she  would  try  to  do, — attempt  his  refor 
mation.  Not  that  she  cared  for  him  personally,  or 


6S  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

that  she  had  grown  sentimentally  interested  in  his 
Byronic  style  of  wretchedness.  So  far  from  it,  her 
happy  and  healthful  nature  was  repelled  by  his  dis 
eased  and  morbid  one.  She  found  him  what  girls 
call  a  "  disagreeable  man."  But  she  yearned  toward  a 
sinning,  suffering  soul,  found  in  any  guise.  It  was 
net  in  her  woman's  heart  to  pass  by  on  the  other  side. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

UNEXPECTED    CHESTNUT    BURRS. 

/GREGORY'S  afternoon  walk  was  not  very  pro- 
\J  longed,  for  a  shivering  sense  of  discomfort  soon 
drove  him  back  to  the  house.  Although  the  morning 
had  been  cool,  the  sun  had  shone  bright  and  warm, 
but  now  the  foreshadowing  of  a  storm  was  evident. 
A  haze  had  spread  over  the  sky,  increasing  in  leaden 
hue  toward  the  west.  The  chilly  wind  moaned 
fitfully  through  the  trees,  and  the  landscape  darkened 
like  a  face  shadowed  by  coming  trouble. 

Walter  dreaded  a  storm,  fearing  it  would  shut  him 
up  with  the  family  without  escape ;  but  at  last  the 
sun  so  enshrouded  itself  in  gloom  that  he  was  com 
pelled  to  return.  He  went  to  his  room  for  a  book, 
hoping  that  when  they  saw  him  engaged  they  would 
leave  him  more  to  himself.  But  to  his  agreeable 
surprise  he  found  a  cheerful  fire  blazing  on  the 
hearth,  and  an  ample  supply  of  wood  in  a  box  near. 
The  easy-chair  was  wheeled  forward,  and  a  plate  of 
grapes  and  the  latest  magazine  were  placed  invitingly 
on  the  table.  Even  his  cynicism  was  not  proof 
against  this  delicate  thoughtfulness,  and  he  exclaimed, 
"  Ah,  this  is  better  than  I  expected,  and  a  hundred- 


70  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

fold  better  than  I  deserve.  I  make  but  poor  return 
for  their  kindness.  This  cosey  room  seems  to  say, 
'We  won't  force  ourselves  on  you.  You  can  be 
alone  as  much  as  you  like/  for  I  suppose  they  must 
have  noticed  my  disinclination  for  society.  But  they 
are  wise  after  all,  for  I  am  cursed  poor  company  for 
myself  and  worse  than  none  at  all  for  others." 

Eating  from  time  to  time  a  purple  grape,  he  so 
lost  himself  in  the  fresh  thoughts  of  the  magazine 
that  the  tea-bell  rang  ere  he  was  aware. 

"  In  the  name  of  decency  I  must  try  to  make 
myself  agreeable  for  a  little  while  this  evening,"  he 
muttered,  as  he  descended  to  the  cheerful  supper- 
room. 

To  their  solicitude  for  his  health  and  their  regret 
that  the  approaching  storm  had  driven  him  so  early 
to  the  house,  he  replied,  "  I  found  in  my  room  a 
better  substitute  for  the  sunlight  I  had  lost ;  though 
as  a  votary  of  nature,  Miss  Walton,  I  suppose  you 
will  regard  this  assertion  as  rank  heresy." 

"  Not  at  all,  for  your  firelight  is  the  result  of  sun 
light,"  answered  Annie,  smiling. 

"How  is  that?" 

"  It  required  many  summers  to  ripen  the  wood 
that  blazed  on  your  hearth.  Indeed,  good  dry  wood 
is  but  concentrated  sunshine  put  by  for  cold,  gloomy 
days  and  chilly  nights." 

"  That  is  an  odd  fancy.  I  wish  there  were  other 
ways  of  storing  up  sunshine  for  future  use." 

"  There  are,"  said  Miss  Walton,  cheerfully ;  and 
she  looked  up  as  if  she  would  like  to  say  more,  but 


UNEXPEC1  £D  CHES  TNJU  T  B  URRS.  7 1 

he  instantly  changed  the  subject  in  his  instinctive 
wish  to  avoid  the  faintest  approach  to  moralizing. 
Still,  conversation  continued  brisk  till  Mr.  Walton 
asked  suddenly,  "  By  the  way,  Mr.  Gregory,  have 
you  ever  met  Mr.  Hunting  of  Wall  Street?" 

There  was  no  immediate  answer,  and  they  all 
looked  inquiringly  at  him.  To  their  surprise  his 
face  was  darkened  by  the  heaviest  frown.  After  a 
moment  he  said,  with  peculiar  emphasis,  "Yes;  I 
know  him  well." 

A  chill  seemed  to  fall  on  them  after  that ;  and  he, 
glancing  up,  saw  that  Annie  looked  flushed  and 
indignant,  Miss  Eulie  pained,  and  Mr.  Walton  very 
grave.  Even  the  little  boy  shot  vindictive  glances 
at  him.  He  at  once  surmised  that  Hunting  was 
related  to  the  family,  and  was  oppressed  with  the 
thought  that  he  was  fast  losing  the  welcome  given 
him  on  his  father's  account.  But  in  a  few  moments 
Annie  rallied  and  made  unwonted  efforts  to  banish 
the  general  embarrassment,  and  with  partial  success, 
for  Gregory  had  tact  and  good  conversational  pow 
ers  if  he  chose  to  exert  them.  When,  soon  after, 
they  adjourned  to  the  parlor,  outward  serenity 
reigned. 

On  either  side  of  the  ample  hearth,  on  which 
blazed  a  hickory  fire,  a  table  was  drawn  up.  An 
easy-chair  stood  invitingly  by  each,  with  a  little 
carpet  bench  on  which  to  rest  the  feet. 

"  Take  one  of  these,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  cordially, 
"  and  join  me  with  a  cigar.  The  ladies  of  my  house 
hold  are  indulgent  to  my  small  vices." 


^ 2  OPENING  A  CHESTN UT  B  URR . 

"  And  I  will  send  for  your  magazine,"  said  Annie, 
*  and  then  you  can  read  and  chat  according  to  your 
mood.  You  see  that  we  do  not  intend  to  make  a 
etranger  of  you." 

"  For  which  I  am  very  glad.  You  treat  me  far 
better  than  I  deserve." 

Instead  of  some  deprecatory  remark,  Annie  gave 
him  a  quick,  half-comical  look  which  he  did  not  fully 
understand. 

"  There  is  more  in  her  than  I  at  first  imagined," 
he  thought. 

Seated  with  the  magazine,  Gregory  found  himself 
in  the  enjoyment  of  every  element  of  comfort. 
That  he  might  be  under  no  constraint  to  talk,  Annie 
commenced  speaking  to  her  father  and  Miss  Eulie 
of  some  neighborhood  affairs,  of  which  he  knew 
nothing.  The  children  and  a  large  greyhound  were 
dividing  the  rug  between  them.  The  former  were 
chatting  in  low  tones  and  roasting  the  first  chestnuts 
of  the  season  on  a  broad  shovel  that  was  placed  on 
the  glowing  coals.  The  dog  was  sleepily  watching 
them  lest  in  their  quick  movements  his  tail  should 
come  to  grief. 

Gregory  had  something  of  an  artist's  eye,  and  he 
could  not  help  glancing  up  from  his  reading  occa 
sionally,  and  thinking  what  a  pretty  picture  the 
roomy  parlor  made. 

"  Annie,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  after  a  little  while,  "  I 
can't  get  through  this  article  with  my  old  eyes. 
Won't  you  finish  it  for  me  ?  Shall  we  disturb  you, 
Mr.  Gregory?" 


UNEXPECTED  CHESTNiJT  BURRS.  73 

"Not  at  all." 

Gregory  soon  forgot  to  read  himself  in  listening 
to  her.  Not  that  he  heard  the  subject-matter  with 
any  interest,  but  her  sweet,  natural  tones  and  sim 
plicity  arrested  and  retained  his  attention.  Even 
the  statistics  and  the  prose  of  political  economy 
seemed  to  fall  from  her  lips  in  musical  cadence,  and 
yet  there  was  no  apparent  effort  and  not  a  thought 
of  effect.  Walter  mused  as  he  listened. 

"  I  would  like  to  hear  some  quiet,  genial  book 
read  in  that  style,  though  it  is  evident  that  Miss 
Walton  is  no  tragedy  queen." 

Having  finished  the  reading,  Annie  started  briskly 
up  and  said,  "Come,  little  people,  your  chestnuts  are 
roasted  and  eaten.  It's  bedtime.  The  turkeys  and 
squirrels  will  be  at  the  nut-trees  long  before  you 
to-morrow  unless  you  scamper  off  at  once." 

"  O,  Aunt  Annie,"  chimed  their  voices,  "  you 
must  sing  us  the  chestnut  song  first ;  you  promised 
to." 

"  With  your  permission,  Mr.  Gregory,  I  suppose  I 
must  make  my  promise  good,"  said  Annie. 

"  I  join  the  children  in  asking  for  the  song,"  he 
replied,  glad  to  get  them  out  of  the  way  on  such 
easy  conditions,  though  he  expected  a  nursery  ditty 
or  a  juvenile  hymn  from  some  Sabbath-school  collec 
tion,  wherein  healthy,  growing  boys  are  made  to 
sing,  "  I  want  to  be  an  angel."  "  Moreover,"  he 
added,  "  I  have  read  that  one  must  always  keep 
one's  word  to  a  child." 

"  Which  is  a  very  important  truth  ;  do  you  not 
think  so?" 


74  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR, 

"  Since  you  are  using  the  word  '  truth  '  so  promi- 
nently,  Miss  Walton,  I  must  say  that  I  have  not 
thought  much  about  it.  But  I  certainly  would  have 
you  keep  your  word  on  this  occasion." 

"Aunt  Annie  always  keeps  her  word,"  said  Johnny, 
rather  bluntly.  By  some  childish  instinct  he  divined 
that  Gregory  did  not  appreciate  Aunt  Annie  suffi 
ciently,  and  this  added  to  his  prejudice. 

"  You  have  a  stout  little  champion  there,"  Gregory 
remarked. 

"  I  cannot  complain  of  his  zeal,"  she  answered 
significantly,  at  the  same  time  giving  the  boy  a 
caress.  "  Mr.  Gregory,  this  is  a  rude  country  ballad, 
and  we  are  going  to  sing  it  in  our  accustomed  way, 
even  though  it  shock  your  city  ears.  Johnny  and 
Susie,  you  can  join  in  the  chorus ;"  and  she  sang 
the  following  simple  October  glee : 

Katydid,  your  throat  is  sore, 
You  can  chirp  this  fall  no  more ; 
Robin  red-breast,  summer's  past, 
Did  you  think  'twould  always  last  ? 
Fly  away  to  sunny  climes, 
Lands  of  oranges  and  limes  ; 
With  the  squirrels  we  shall  stay 
And  put  our  store  of  nuts  away. 

#  the  spiny  chestnut  burrs  !     O  the  prickly  chestnut  purrs  \ 
Harsh  without,  but  lined  with  down, 
And  full  of  chestnuts,  plump  and  brown 

Sorry  are  we  for  the  flowers ; 
We  shall  miss  our  summer  bowers ; 
Still  we  welcome  frosty  Jack, 
Stealing  now  from  Greenland  back. 


UNEXPECTED  CHESTNUT  BURRS.  75 

And  the  burrs  will  welcome  him  ; 
When  he  knocks,  they'll  let  him  in. 
They  don't  know  what  Jack's  about; 
Soon  he'll  turn  the  chestnuts  out. 
O  the  spiny,  etc. — 

Turkey  gobbler,  with  your  train, 
You  shall  scratch  the  leaves  in  vain ; 
Squirrel,  with  your  whisking  tail, 
Your  sharp  eyes  shall  not  avail ; 
In  the  crisp  and  early  dawn, 
Scampering  across  the  lawn, 
We  will  beat  you  to  the  trees, 
Come  you  then  whene'er  you  please. 
O  the  spiny,  etc. — 

Gregory's  expression  as  she  played  a  simple  pre 
lude  was  one  of  endurance,  but  when  she  began  to 
sing  the  changes  of  his  face  were  rapid.  First  he 
turned  toward  her  with  a  look  of  interest,  then  of 
surprise.  Miss  Eulie  could  not  help  watching  him, 
for,  though  she  was  well  on  in  life,  just  such  a  char 
acter  had  never  risen  above  her  horizon.  Too  gentle 
to  censure,  she  felt  that  she  had  much  cause  for 
regret. 

At  first  she  was  pleased  to  see  that  he  found  the 
ditty  far  more  to  his  taste  than  he  had  expected. 
But  the  rapid  alternation  from  pleased  surprise  and 
enjoyment  to  something  like  a  scowl  of  despair  and 
almost  hate  she  could  not  understand.  Following 
his  eyes  she  saw  them  resting  on  the  boy,  who  was 
now  eagerly  joining  in  the  chorus  of  the  last  verse. 
She  was  not  sufficiently  skilled  to  know  that  to 


J6  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR, 

Gregory's  diseased  moral  nature  things  most  simple 
and  wholesome  in  themselves  were  most  repugnant. 
She  could  not  understand  that  the  tripping  little 
song,  with  its  wild-wood  life  and  movement — that 
the  boy  singing  with  the  delight  of  a  pure,  fresh 
heart  —  told  him,  beyond  the  power  of  labored 
language,  how  hackneyed  and  blast  he  had  become, 
how  far  and  hopelessly  he  had  drifted  from  the  same 
true  childhood. 

And  Miss  Walton,  turning  suddenly  toward  him, 
saw  the  same  dark  expression,  full  of  suffering  and 
impotent  revolt  at  his  destiny,  as  he  regarded  it,  and 
she  too  was  puzzled. 

"  You  do  not  like  our  foolish  little  song,''  she  said. 

"  I  envy  that  boy,  Miss  Walton,"  was  his  reply. 

Then  she  began  to  understand  him,  and  said, 
gently,  "  You  have  no  occasion  to." 

"  I  wish  you,  or  any  one,  could  find  the  logic  to 
prove  that/' 

"  The  proof  is  not  in  logic  but  in  nature,  that  is 
ever  young.  They  who  draw  their  life  from  nature 
do  not  fall  into  the  only  age  we  need  dread." 

"  Do  you  not  expect  to  grow  old  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  half  humorously  and  said, 
"  But  these  children  will  before  I  get  them  to  bed." 

He  ostensibly  resumed  his  magazine,  but  did  not 
turn  any  leaves. 

His  first  mental  query  was,  "  Have  I  rightly 
gauged  Miss  Walton  ?  I  half  Relieve  she  under 
stands  me  better  than  I  do  her.  '/  estimated  her  as 
a  goodish,  fairly  educated  country  girl,  of  the  church- 


UNEXPECTED  CHESTNUT  BURRS.  77 

going  sort,  one  that  would  be  dreadfully  shocked  at 
finding  me  out,  and  deem  it  at  once  her  mission  to 
pluck  me  as  a  brand  from  the  burning.  I  know  all 
about  the  goodness  of  such  girls.  They  are  ignorant 
of  the  world ;  they  have  never  been  tempted,  and 
they  have  a  brood  of  little  feminine  weaknesses  that 
of  course  are  not  paraded  in  public. 

"  And  no  doubt  all  this  is  true  of  Miss  Walton, 
and  yet,  for  some  reason,  she  interests  me  a  little  this 
evening.  She  is  refined,  but  nowhere  in  the  world 
will  you  meet  drearier  monotony  and  barrenness 
than  among  refined  people.  Having  no  real  origi 
nality,  their  little  oddities  are  polished  away.  In 
Miss  Walton  I'm  beginning  to  catch  glimpses  of 
vistas  unexplored,  though  perhaps  I  am  a  fool  for 
thinking  so. 

"  What  a  peculiar  voice  she  has  !  She  would  make 
a  poor  figure,  no  doubt,  in  an  opera ;  and  yet  she 
might  render  a  simple  aria  very  well.  But  for  songs 
of  nature  and  ballads  I  have  never  heard  so  sympa 
thetic  a  voice.  It  suggests  a  power  of  making  music 
a  sweet  home  language  instead  of  a  difficult,  high 
art,  attainable  by  few.  Really  Miss  Walton  is 
worth  investigation,  for  no  one  with  such  a  voice  can 
be  utterly  commonplace.  Strange  as  it  is,  I  cannot 
ignore  her.  Though  she  makes  no  effort  to  attract 
my  attention,  I  am  ever  conscious  of  her  presence/9 


CHAPTER    VII. 

A    CONSPIRACY. 

WHEN  Miss  Walton  returned  to  the  parlor  he? 
father  said,  "  Annie,  I  am  going  to  trespass 
on  your  patience  again." 

She  answered  with  a  little  piquant  gesture,  and 
was  soon  reading  in  natural,  easy  tones,  without 
much  stumbling,  what  must  have  been  Greek  to  her. 

Gregory  watched  her  with  increasing  interest,  and 
another  question  than  the  one  of  finance  involved  in 
the  article  was  rising  in  his  mind. 

"  Is  this  real  ?  Is  this  seeming  goodness  a  fact  ?  " 
It  was  the  very  essence  of  his  perverted  nature  to 
doubt  it.  Now  that  his  eyes  were  opened,  and  he 
closely  observed  Miss  Walton,  he  saw  that  his  preju 
dices  against  her  were  groundless.  Although  not  a 
stylish,  pretty  woman,  she  was  evidently  far  removed 
from  the  goodish,  commonplace  character  that  he 
could  regard  as  part  of  the  furniture  of  the  house, 
useful  in  its  place,  but  of  no  more  interest  than  a 
needful  piece  of  cabinet  work.  Nor  did  she  assert 
herself  as  do  those  aggressive,  lecturing  females  who 
deem  it  their  mission  to  set  everybody  right  within 
their  sphere. 


A  CONSPIRACY.  79 

And  yet  she  did  assert  herself ;  but  he  was  com 
pelled  to  admit  that  it  was  like  the  summer  breeze 
or  the  perfume  of  a  rose.  He  had  resolved  that  very 
day  to  avoid  and  ignore  her  as  far  as  possible,  and 
yet,  before  the  first  evening  in  her  presence  was  half 
over,  he  had  left  a  magazine  story  unfinished ;  he 
was  watching  her,  thinking  and  surmising  about  her, 
and  listening,  as  she  read,  to  what  he  did  not  care  a 
straw  about.  Although  she  had  not  made  the 
slightest  effort,  some  influence  from  her  had  stolen 
upon  him  like  a  cool  breeze  on  a  sultry  day,  and 
wooed  him  as  gently  as  the  perfume  of  a  flower  that 
is  sweet  to  all.  He  said  to  himself,  "  She  is  not 
pretty,"  and  yet  found  pleasure  in  watching  her  red 
lips  drop  figures  and  financial  terms  as  musically  as 
a  little  rill  murmurs  over  a  mossy  rock. 

From  behind  his  magazine  he  studied  the  group 
at  the  opposite  table,  but  it  was  with  the  pain  which 
a  despairing  swimmer,  swept  seaward  by  a  resistless 
current,  might  feel  in  seeing  the  safe  and  happy  on 
the  shore. 

Gray  Mr.  Walton  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  the 
embodiment  of  peace  and  placid  content. 

The  subject  to  which  he  was  listening  and  kindred 
topics  had  so  far  receded  that  his  interest  was  that  of 
a  calm,  philosophic  observer,  and  Gregory  thought, 
with  a  glimmer  of  a  smile,  "  He  is  not  dabbling  in 
stocks  or  he  could  not  maintain  that  quiet  mien." 

His  habits  of  thought  as  a  business  man  merely 
made  it  a  pleasure  to  keep  up  with  the  times.  In 
fact  he  was  in  that  serene  border-land  between  the 


So  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

two  worlds  where  the  questions  of  earth  are  growing 
vague  and  distant  and  those  of  the  "  better  country  " 
more  real  and  engrossing,  for  Gregory  observed,  later 
in  the  evening,  that  he  took  the  family  Bible  with 
more  zest  than  he  had  bestowed  on  the  motive  power 
of  the  world.  It  was  evident  where  his  most  valued 
treasures  were  stored.  With  a  bitter  sigh,  Gregory 
thought,  "  I  would  take  his  gray  hairs  if  I  could 
have  his  peace  and  faith." 

Miss  Eulie,  to  whom  he  gave  a  passing  glance, 
seemed  even  less  earthly  in  her  nature.  Indeed,  it 
appeared  as  if  she  had  never  more  than  half  belonged 
to  the  material  creation.  Slight,  ethereal,  with 
untroubled  blue  eyes,  and  little  puff  curls  too  light 
to  show  their  change  to  gray,  she  struck  Gregory 
unpleasantly,  as  if  she  were  a  connecting  link  between 
gross  humanity  and  spiritual  existence,  and  his  eyes 
reverted  to  Miss  Walton,  and  dwelt  with  increasing 
interest  on  her.  There  at  least  were  youth,  health, 
and  something  else — what  was  it  in  the  girl  that  had 
so  strongly  and  suddenly  gained  his  attention?  At 
any  rate  there  was  nothing  about  her  uncanny  and 
spirit-like. 

He  did  not  understand  her.  Was  it  possible  that 
a  young  girl,  not  much  beyond  twenty,  was  happy 
in  the  care  of  orphan  children,  in  the  quiet  humdrum 
duties  of  housekeeping,  and  in  reading  stupid  arti 
cles  through  the  long,  quiet  evenings,  with  few  ex 
citements  beyond  church-going,  rural  tea-drinkings, 
and  country  walks  and  rides  ?  With  a  grim  smile  he 
thought  how  soon  the  belles  he  had  admired  would 


A  CONSPIRACY.  8 1 

expire  under  such  a  regimen.  Could  this  be  good 
acting  because  a  guest  was  present  ?  If  so  it  was 
perfect,  for  it  seemed  her  daily  life. 

"  I  will  watch  her,"  he  thought.  "  I  will  solve  this 
little  feminine  enigma.  It  will  divert  my  mind,  and 
I've  nothing  else  to  do." 

"  My  daughter  spoils  me,  you  see,  Mr.  Gregory," 
said  Mr.  Walton,  starting  up  as  Annie  finished  a 
theory  that  would  make  every  one  rich  by  the  print 
ing-press  process. 

"  Don't  plume  yourself,  papa/'  replied  Annie, 
archly ;  "  I  shall  make  you  do  something  for  me  to 
pay  for  all  this." 

With  a  humorous  look  he  replied,  "  No  matter,  I 
have  the  best  of  the  bargain,  for  I  should  have  to  do 
the  '  something  '  anyway.  But  what  do  you  think 
of  this  theoiy,  sir  ?  "  And  he  explained,  not  know 
ing  that  Walter  had  been  listening. 

The  gentlemen  were  soon  deep  in  the  mysteries  of 
currency  and  finance,  topics  on  which  both  could 
talk  well.  Annie  listened  with  polite  attention  for 
a  short  time, — indeed  Gregory  was  exerting  himself 
more  for  her  sake  than  for  Mr.  Walton's, — and  she 
was  satisfied  from  her  father's  face  that  his  guest 
was  interesting  him ;  but  as  the  subject  was  mainly 
unintelligible  to  her  she  soon  turned  with  real  zest  to 
Miss  Eulie's  fancy-work,  and  there  was  an  earnest 
whispered  discussion  in  regard  to  the  right  number 
of  stitches.  Walter  noted  this  and  sneeringly 
thought,  with  a  masculine  phase  of  justice  often 
seen,  *'  That's  like  a  woman.  She  drops  one  of  the 


82  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

deepest  and  most  important  subjects  of  the  day " 
(and  he  might  have  added,  "  As  explained  by  me  ") 
• — "  and  gives  her  whole  soul  to  a  bit  of  thread  lace  ;  " 
and  he  soon  let  Mr.  Walton  have  the  discussion  all 
his  own  way. 

In  furtherance  of  his  purpose  to  draw  Annie  out 
he  said,  rather  banteringly,  "  Miss  Walton,  I  am 
astonished  that  so  good  a  man  as  your  father  should 
have  as  an  ardent  friend  the  profane  and  disreputable 
character  that  I  found  living  in  the  cottage  opposite 
on  the  day  of  my  arrival." 

"  Profane,  I  admit  he  is,"  she  replied,  "  but  not 
disreputable.  Indeed,  as  the  world  goes,  I  think  old 
Daddy  Tuggar,  as  he  is  called  in  this  vicinity,  is  a 
good  man." 

"  O,  Annie !"  said  Miss  Eulie.  "How  can  you 
think  so  ?  You  have  broader  charity  than  I.  He  is 
breaking  his  poor  wife's  heart." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  Annie,  dryly  ;  "  I  was  not  aware 
of  it." 

"  I  too  am  astonished,"  said  Walter,  in  mock 
solemnity.  "  How  is  it  that  a  refined  and  orthodox 
young  lady,  a  pillar  of  the  church,  too,  I  gather,  can 
regard  with  other  than  unmixed  disapprobation  a 
man  who  breaks  the  third  commandment  and  all  the 
rules  of  Lindley  Murray  at  every  breath  ?  " 

"  I  imagine  the  latter  offence  is  the  more  heinous 
sin  in  your  eyes,  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  said,  scanning  his 
face  with  a  quick  look. 

"  Oh,  you  become  aggressive.  I  was  under  the 
impression  that  I  was  making  the  attack  and  that 


A  CONSPIRACY.  83 

you  were  on  the  defensive.  But  I  can  readily  explain 
the  opinion  which  you,  perhaps  not  unjustly,  impute 
to  me.  You  and  I  judge  this  venerable  sinner  from 
different  standpoints." 

"You  explain  your  judgment,  but  do  not  justify 
it,"  replied  Annie,  quietly. 

"Annie,  I  don't  see  on  what  grounds  you  call 
Daddy  Tuggar  a  good  man,"  said  Miss  Eulie, 
emphatically. 

"  Please  understand  me,  aunty,"  said  Annie,  earn^ 
estly.  "  I  did  not  say  he  was  a  Christian  man,  but 
merely  a  good  man  as  the  world  goes  ;  and  I  know  I 
shall  shock  you  when  I  say  that  I  have  more  faith  in 
him  than  in  his  praying  and  Scripture-quoting  wife. 
There,  I  knew  I  should,"  she  added,  as  she  saw  Miss 
Eulie's  look  of  pained  surprise. 

Mr.  Walton  was  listening  with  an  amused  smile. 
He  evidently  understood  his  quaint  old  friend  and 
shared  Annie's  opinion  of  him. 

Gregory  was  growing  decidedly  interested,  and 
said,  "  Really,  Miss  Walton,  I  must  side  with  your 
aunt  in  this  matter.  I  shall  overwhelm  you  with  an 
awful  word.  I  think  you  are  latitudinarian  in  your 
tendencies." 

"  Which  Daddy  Tuggar  would  call  a  new-fangled 
way  of  swearing  at  me,"  retorted  Annie,  with  her 
frank  laugh  that  was  so  genuinely  mirthful  that  even 
Aunt  Eulie  joined  in  it. 

"  I  half  think,"  continued  Annie,  "that  the  church 
men  in  the  ages  of  controversy  did  a  good  deal  of 
worse  swearing  than  our  old  neighbor  is  guilty  of 


84  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

when  they  hurled  at  each  other  with  such  bitter  zest 
the  epithets  Antinomian,  Sociriian,  Pelagian,  Cal- 
vinistic,  etc." 

"  Those  terms  have  an  awful  sound.  They  smite 
my  ear  with  all  the  power  that  vagueness  imparts, 
and  surely  must  have  caused  stout  hearts  to  tremble 
in  their  day,"  he  remarked. 

"  We  are  no  longer  on  the  ground  of  currency  and 
finance,"  said  Annie,  archly,  "  and  I  shall  leave  you 
to  imagine  that  I  know  all  about  the  ideas  repre 
sented  by  the  polysyllabic  terms  of  churchmen's  war 
fare." 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  comic  dismay. 
Really  this  country  girl  was  growing  too  much  for 
him  in  his  game  of  banter. 

"  Miss  Walton,  I  shall  not  dispute  or  question 
your  knowledge  of  the  Socin — cin — (you  know  the 
rest)  heresy — " 

"Alas!  "put  in  Annie,  quietly,  "  I  do  know  all 
about  the  '  sin  heresy.'  I  can  say  that  honestly." 

"  I  am  somewhat  inclined  to  doubt  that,"  he  said, 
quickly ;  then  added,  in  sudden  and  mock  severity, 
"  Miss  Walton,  if  I  were  a  judge  upon  the  bench  I 
should  charge  that  you  were  evading  the  question 
and  befogging  the  case.  The  point  at  issue  is,  How 
can  you  regard  Daddy  Tuggar  as  a  good  man  ?  As 
evidence  against  him  I  can  affirm  that  I  do  not 
remember  to  have  had  such  a  good  square  cursing  in 
my  life,  and  I  have  received  several." 

This  last  expression  caused  Miss  Eulie  to  open  her 
eyes  at  him. 


A  CONSPIRACY.  85 

*'  Not  for  your  sake,  sir,"  said  Annie,  with  a  keen 
yet  humorous  glance  at  him,  "  who  as  judge  on  the 
bench  have  in  your  pocket  a  written  verdict,  I  fear, 
but  for  Aunt  Eulie's  I  will  give  the  reasons  for  my 
estimate.  I  regard  her  in  the  light  of  an  honest 
jury.  I  ft  the  first  place  the  term  you  used,  '  square,' 
applies  ',o  him.  I  do  not  think  he  could  be  tempted 
to  do  a  4ishonest  thing;  and  that,  as  the  world  goes, 
is  certai.ily  a  good  point." 

"  And  as  the  church  goes,  too,"  he  added,  cynically. 

"  He  is  a  good  neighbor,  and  considerate  of  the 
rights  of  others.  He  can  feel,  and  is  not  afraid  to 
show  *t  sincere  indignation  when  seeing  a  wrong  done 
to  another." 

"  I  can  vouch  for  that.  I  shall  steal  no  more  of 
your  apples,  Mr.  Walton." 

"  Th^re  is  not  a  particle  of  hypocrisy  about  him. 
I  wish  I  could  think  the  same  of  his  wife.  For  some 
reason  she  always  gives  me  the  impression  of  insin 
cerity.  If  I  were  as  good  as  you  are,  aunty,  perhaps 
I  should  not  be  so  suspicious.  One  thing  more,  and 
my  eulogy  of  Daddy — the  only  one  he  will  ever 
receive,  I  fear — is  over.  He  is  capable  of  sincere 
friendship,  and  that  is  more  than  you  can  say  of  a 
great  many." 

"  It  is  indeed,"  said  Gregory,  with  bitter  emphasis. 
"  I  should  be  willing  to  take  my  chances  with  Daddy 
Tuggar  in  this  or  any  other  world." 

"  You  had  better  not,"  she  answered,  now  thor 
oughly  in  earnest. 

"Why  so?" 


86  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

A<  I  should  think  memories  of  this  place  would 
make  my  meaning  clear,"  she  replied,  gently. 

Gregory's  face  darkened,  and  he  admitted  to  him 
self  that  most  unexpectedly  she  had  sent  an  arrow 
home,  and  yet  he  could  take  no  exception. 

His  indifference  toward  her  had  vanished  now.  So 
far  from  regarding  her  as  a  dull,  good,  country  girl 
with  a  narrow  horizon  of  little  feminine  and  common 
place  interests,  he  began  to  doubt  whether  he  should 
be  able  to  cope  with  her  in  the  tilt  of  thought.  He 
saw  that  she  was  quick,  original,  and  did  her  own 
thinking,  that  in  repartee  she  hit  back  unexpectedly, 
in  flashes,  as  the  lightning  strikes  from  the  clouds. 
He  could  not  keep  pace  with  her  quick  intuition. 

Moreover,  in  her  delicate  reference  to  his  parents* 
faith  she  had  suggested  an  argument  for  Christianity 
that  he  had  never  been  able  to  answer.  For  a  little 
time  she  had  caused  him  to  forget  his  wretched  self, 
but  her  last  remark  had  thrown  him  back  on  his  old 
doubts,  fears,  and  memories.  As  we  have  said,  his 
cynical,  despondent  expression  returned,  and  he 
silently  lowered  at  the  fire. 

Annie  had  too  much  tact  to  add  a  word.  "  He 
must  be  hurt — well  probed  indeed — before  he  can  be 
well,"  she  thought. 

Country  bedtime  had  now  come,  and  Mr.  Walton 
said,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  I  trust  you  will  not  find  our  cus 
tom  of  family  prayers  distasteful." 

"  The  absence  of  such  a  custom  would  seem  strange 
to  me  in  this  place,"  he  replied,  but  he  did  not  say 
whether  it  would  be  agreeable  or  distasteful. 


A  CONSPIRACY.  87 

Annie  went  to  the  piano  as  if  it  were  a  habit,  and 
after  a  moment  chose  the  tender  hymn — 
"  Come,  ye  disconsolate." 

At  first,  in  his  morbid  sensitiveness,  he  was  inclined 
to  resent  this  selection  as  aimed  at  him,  but  soon  he 
was  under  the  spell  of  the  music  and  the  sentiment, 
which  he  thought  had  never  before  been  so  exquisitely 
blended. 

Miss  Walton  was  not  very  finished  or  artistic  in 
anything.  She  would  not  be  regarded  as  a  scholar 
even  among  the  girls  of  her  own  age  and  station,  and 
her  knowledge  of  classical  music  was  limited.  But 
she  was  gifted  in  a  peculiar  degree  with  tact,  a  quick 
perception,  and  the  power  of  interpreting  the  lan 
guage  of  nature  and  of  the  heart.  She  read  and 
estimated  character  rapidly.  Almost  intuitively  she 
saw  people's  needs  and  weaknesses,  but  so  far  was  she 
from  making  them  the  ground  of  satire  and  contempt 
that  they  awakened  her  pity  and  desire  to  help.  In 
other  words,  she  was  one  of  those  Christians  who  in 
some  degree  catch  the  very  essence  of  Christ's  char 
acter,  who  lived  and  died  to  save.  She  did  not  think 
of  condemning  the  guilty  and  disconsolate  man  that 
brooded  at  her  fireside,  but  she  did  long  to  help  him. 

"  1  may  never  be  able  to  say  such  words  to  him 
directly,"  she  thought,  "  but  I  can  sing  them,  and  if 
he  leaves  our  home  to-morrow  he  shall  hear  the  truth 
once  more." 

And  she  did  sing  with  tenderness  and  feeling.  In 
rendering  something  that  required  simplicity,  nature, 
and  pathos,  no  prima  donna  could  surpass  her,  for 


8^  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

while  her  voice  was  not  powerful,  and  had  no  unus, 
ual  compass,  it  was  as  sweet  as  that  of  a  thrush  is 
May. 

Only  deaf  ears  and  a  stony  heart  could  have 
remained  insensible,  and  Gregory  was  touched.  A 
reviving  breath  from  Paradise  seemed  to  blow  upon 
him  and  gently  urge,  "  Arise,  struggle,  make  one 
more  effort,  and  you  may  yet  cross  the  burning  sands 
of  the  desert.  It  is  not  a  mirage  that  is  mocking 
you  now." 

As  the  last  words  trembled  from  the  singer's  lips 
he  shaded  his  eyes  with  the  hand  on  which  his  head 
was  leaning,  but  Miss  Eulie  saw  a  tear  fall  with 
momentary  glitter,  and  she  exulted  over  it  as  his 
good  angel  might  have  done. 

If  penitent  tears  could  be  crystallized  they  would 
be  the  only  gems  of  earth  that  angels  would  covet, 
and  perhaps  God's  co-workers  here  will  find  those 
that  they  caused  to  flow  on  earth  set  as  gems  in  their 
"crown  of  glory  that  fadeth  not  away." 

Mr.  Walton,  in  reverential  tones,  read  the  fifty- 
third  chapter  of  Isaiah,  which,  with  greater  beauty 
and  tenderness,  carried  forward  the  thought  of  the 
hymn ;  and  then  he  knelt  and  offered  a  prayer  that 
was  so  simple  and  childlike,  so  free  from  form  and 
cant,  and  so  direct  from  the  heart,  that  Gregory  was 
deeply  moved.  The  associations  of  his  early  home 
were  now  most  vividly  revealed  and  crowned  by  the 
sacred  hour  of  family  worship,  the  memory  of  which, 
like  a  reproachful  face,  had  followed  him  in  all  his 
evil  life. 


A  CONSPIRACY.  89 

When  he  arose  from  his  knees  he  again  shaded  his 
face  with  his  hand  to  hide  his  wet  eyes  and  twitching 
muscles.  After  a  few  moments  he  bade  the  family 
an  abrupt  good-night,  and  retired  to  his  room. 

At  first  they  merely  exchanged  significant  glances. 
Then  Miss  Eulie  told  of  the  tear  as  if  it  were  a  bit 
of  dust  from  a  mine  that  might  enrich  them  all. 
For  a  while  Annie  sat  thoughtfully  gazing  into  the 
fire,  but  at  last  she  said,  "  It  must  be  plain  to  us 
that  Mr.  Gregory  has  wandered  farther  from  his  old 
home  in  spirit  than  he  has  in  body;  but  it  seems 
equally  evident  that  he  is  not  happy  and  content. 
He  seems  suffering  and  out  of  health  in  soul  and 
body.  Perhaps  God  has  sent  him  to  us  and  to  his 
childhood's  home  for  healing.  Let  us,  therefore,  be 
very  careful,  very  tender  and  considerate.  He  is 
naturally  proud  and  sensitive,  and  is  morbidly  so 
now." 

"  I  think  he  is  near  the  Kingdom,"  said  Miss 
Eulie,  with  a  little  sigh  of  satisfaction. 

"  Perhaps  all  are  nearer  than  we  think,"  said 
Annie,  in  a  musing  tone.  "  God  is  not  far  from  any 
one  of  us.  But  it  is  the  curse  of  sin  to  blind.  He 
has,  no  doubt,  been  long  in  reaching  his  present 
unhappy  condition,  and  he  may  be  long  in  escaping 
from  it." 

"  Well,  the  Lord  reigns,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  sen- 
tentiously,  as  if  that  settled  the  question. 

"  Dear  old  father  !  "  said  Annie,  smiling  fondly  at 
him,  "  that's  your  favorite  saying.  You  have  a  com 
fortable  habit  of  putting  all  perplexing  questions 


90  OPENING  A   CHE STNUT  B URR. 

into  the  Lord's  hand  and  borrowing  no  further 
trouble.  Perhaps  that  is  the  wisest  way  after  all, 
only  one  is  a  long  time  learning  it." 

"  I've  been  a  long  time  learning  it,  my  child, "said 
her  father.  "  Let  us  agree  to  carry  his  case  often  to 
the  throne  of  mercy,  and  in  His  good  time  and  way 
our  prayers  will  be  answered." 

Thus  in  quaint  old  scriptural  style  they  conspired 
for  the  life  of  their  unconscious  guest.  This  was  in 
truth  a  "  holy  alliance."  How  many  dark  conspira 
cies  there  have  been,  resulting  in  blood,  wrong,  and 
outrage,  that  some  unworthy  brow  might  wear  for  a 
little  time  a  petty,  perishing  crown  of  earth  !  Oh, 
that  there  were  more  conspiracies  like  that  in  Mr. 
Walton's  parlor  for  the  purpose  of  rendering  the 
unworthy  fit  to  wear  the  crown  immortal ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

WITCHCRAFT. 

MISS  EULIE  was  doomed  to  disappointment, 
for  Gregory  came  down  late  to  breakfast  the 
following  morning  with  not  a  trace  of  his  softened 
feelings.  Indeed,  because  of  pride,  or  for  some 
reason,  he  chose  to  seem  the  very  reverse  of  all  she 
had  hoped.  The  winter  of  his  unbelief  could  not 
pass  away  so  easily. 

Even  in  January  there  are  days  of  sudden  relent 
ing,  when  the  frost's  icy  grasp  upon  nature  seems  to 
relax.  Days  that  rightfully  belong  to  spring  drop 
down  upon  us  with  birds  that  have  come  before  their 
time.  But  such  days  may  end  in  a  north-east  snow 
storm  and  the  birds  perish. 

The  simile  appeared  true  of  Gregory.  As  far  as 
he  took  part  in  the  table-talk  he  was  a  cold,  finished 
man  of  the  world,  and  the  gloom  of  the  early  morn 
ing  rested  on  his  face.  But  Annie  noticed  that  he 
made  an  indifferent  breakfast  and  did  not  appear 
well. 

After  he  had  retired  to  his  room  to  write  some 
letters,  as  he  said,  she  remarked  to  her  father  when 
alone  with  him  : 

"  I  suppose  you  remember  Mr.  Gregory's  manner 


92  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

when  you  spoke  of  Mr.  Hunting,  They  evidently 
are  acquainted  and  not  on  good  terms.  What  could 
have  occurred  between  them  ?  " 

"  Some  quarrel  resulting  from  business,  perhaps," 
said  Mr.  Walton,  musingly. 

"  I  believe  Charles  has  been  trying  to  restrain  Mr. 
Gregory  in  some  of  his  fast  ways,"  Annie  continued, 
emphatically,  *  and  they  have  had  hot  words.  Men 
have  so  little  discretion  in  their  zeal." 

"  Business  men  are  not  apt  to  interfere  with  each 
other's  foibles  unless  they  threaten  their  pockets," 
her  father  replied.  "  It  is  more  probable  that  Greg 
ory  has  borrowed  money  of  Hunting,  and  been  com 
pelled  to  pay  it  against  his  will ;  and  yet  I  have  no 
right  to  surmise  anything  of  the  kind." 

"  But  Mr.  Hunting  is  not  a  mere  business  man, 
father.  He  is  bent  on  doing  good  wherever  he  can 
find  opportunity.  I  incline  to  my  solution.  But  it 
is  clear  that  we  must  be  silent  in  regard  to  him  while 
Mr.  Gregory  is  with  us,  for  I  never  saw  such  bitter 
enmity  expressed  in  any  face.  It  is  well  that  Charles 
is  to  be  absent  for  some  time,  and  that  we  have  no 
prospect  of  a  visit  from  him  while  our  guest  is  here. 
Oh,  dear!  I  wish  Charles  could  come  and  make 
us  a  visit  instead  of  this  moody,  wayward  stranger." 

"  I  can  echo  that  wish  heartily,  Annie,  for  in  the 
son  I  find  little  of  my  old  friend,  his  father.  But 
remember  what  you  said  last  night.  It  may  be  that 
he  was  sent  to  us  in  order  that  we  should  help  him 
become  what  his  father  was." 

"  I  will  do  my  best ;  but  I  do  not  look  forward  to 


WITCHCRAFT.  93 

his  society  with  much  pleasure.  Still,  if  there 
should  be  any  such  result  as  we  hope  for,  I  should 
feel  repaid  a  thousand-fold." 

Gregory  finished  his  letters  and  then  paced  rest 
lessly  up  and  down  his  room. 

"  That  this  country  girl  should  have  so  moved 
me  !  "  he  muttered.  "  What  does  it  mean  ?  What 
is  there  about  her  that  takes  hold  of  my  attention 
and  awakens  my  interest  ?  I  wish  to  go  down-stairs 
now,  and  talk  to  her,  and  have  her  read  to  me,  and 
am  provoked  with  myself  that  I  do.  Yesterday  at 
this  time  I  wished  to  avoid  her. 

"Why  should  I  wish  to  avoid  her?  If  she  amuses 
me,  diverts  my  mind,  beguiles  my  pain,  or  more 
dreary  apathy,  why  not  let  her  exert  her  power  to 
the  utmost  and  make  herself  useful  ?  Yes,  but  she 
will  try  to  do  more  than  amuse.  Well,'  suppose  she 
does  ;  one  can  coolly  foil  such  efforts.  Not  so  sure 
of  that.  If  I  were  dealing  with  a  man  I  could,  but 
one  must  be  worse  than  a  clod  to  hear  her  sing  and 
not  feel.  I  suppose  I  made  a  weak  fool  of  myself 
before  them  all  last  night,  and  they  thought  I  was 
on  the  eve  of  conversion.  I  half  wish  I  were,  or  on 
the  eve  of  anything  else.  Any  change  from  my 
present  state  would  seem  a  relief.  But  a  man  cannot 
go  into  these  things  like  an  impulsive  girl,  even  if  he 
believes  in  them,  which  is  more  than  I  do.  I  seem 
to  have  fallen  into  a  state  of  moral  and  physical 
imbecility,  in  which  I  can  only  doubt,  suffer,  and 
chafe. 

"  I  won't  avoid  her.     I  will  study  and  analyze  her 


94  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

character.  I  doubt  whether  she  is  as  good,  fresh, 
and  original  as  she  seems.  Such  girls  exist  only  in 
moral  stories,  and  I've  met  but  few  even  there,  I 
will  solve  her  mystery.  Probably  it  is  not  a  very 
deep  one,  and  after  a  day  or  two  she  will  become  an 
old  story  and  life  resume  its  normal  monotony  ;"  and 
he  at  once  descended  the  stairs  to  carry  out  his 
purpose. 

The  children  were  just  coming  from  the  sitting- 
room  where  they  had  their  school,  exclaiming,  "  O, 
aunty,  what  shall  we  do  this  awful  rainy  day  ?  " 

"  Wait  till  I  have  given  some  directions  to  Zibbie, 
and  I  will  read  you  a  fairy  story,  and  then  you  can 
go  up  into  the  garret  until  dinner-time." 

"  May  I  listen  to  the  fairy  story  also  ? "  asked 
Walter. 

Miss  Walton  looked  up  with  a  smile  and  said, 
"  You  must  be  half-desperate  from  your  imprison 
ment  to  accept  of  such  solace.  But  if  you  can  wait 
till  I  have  kept  my  word  to  the  children  I  will  read 
something  more  to  your  taste." 

"  I  think  I  should  like  to  hear  how  a  fairy  story 
sounds  once  again  after  all  these  years." 

"  As  Shakespeare  may  sound  to  us  sometime  in 
the  future,"  she  replied,  smiling. 

"  I  can't  believe  we  shall  ever  outgrow  Shake 
speare,"  he  said. 

"  I  can  believe  it,  but  cannot  understand  how  it  is 
possible.  As  yet  I  am  only  growing  up  to 
Shakespeare." 

"  You  seem  very  ready  to  believe  what  you  cannot 
understand." 


WITCHCRAFT.  95 

"  And  that  is  woman's  way,  I  suppose  you  would 
like  to  add,"  she  answered,  smiling  overher  shoulder, 
as  she  turned  to  the  kitchen  department.  "  You  men 
have  a  general  faith  that  there  will  be  dinner  at  two 
o'clock,  though  you  understand  very  little  how  it 
comes  to  pass,  and  if  you  are  disappointed  the  best 
of  your  sex  have  not  fortitude  enough  to  wait 
patiently,  so  I  must  delay  no  longer  to  propitiate  the 
kitchen  divinity." 

"  There  !  "  he  said,  "  I  have  but  crossed  her  steps 
in  the  hall,  and  she  has  stirred  me  and  set  my 
nerves  tingling  like  an  October  breeze.  She  is  a 
witch." 

After  a  few  minutes  Miss  Walton  entered.  Each 
of  the  children  called  for  a  story,  and  both  clamored 
for  their  favorites. 

"  Johnny,"  said  Miss  Walton,  "  it  is  manly  to  yield 
to  the  least  and  weakest,  especially  if  she  be  a 
little  woman." 

The  boy  thought  a  moment,  and  then  with  an 
amusing  assumption  of  dignity  said,  "You  may  read 
Susie's  story  first,  aunty." 

"  Susie,  promise  Johnny  that  his  story  shall  be  read 
first  next  time ;  "  which  Susie  promptly  did  with  a 
touch  of  the  womanly  grace  which  accompanies 
favors  bestowed  after  the  feminine  will  has  tri 
umphed. 

"  Now,  little  miniature  man  and  woman,  listen !  " 
and  their  round  eyes  were  ready  for  the  world  of 
wonders. 

And  this  child  of  nature  was  at  the  same  time 


96  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

showing  Gregory  a  world  as  new  and  strange — a 
world  that  he  had  caught  glimpses  of  when  a  boy, 
but  since  had  lost  hopelessly.  She  carried  the  chil 
dren  away  into  fairy  land.  She  suggested  to  him  a 
life  in  which  simplicity,  truth,  and  genuine  goodness 
might  bring  peace  and  hope  to  the  heart. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  fairy  story  ?  " 
she  asked  after  she  had  finished  and  the  children  had 
drawn  sighs  of  intense  relief  at  the  happy  denouement, 
in  which  the  ugly  ogre  was  slain  and  the  prince  and 
princess  were  married. 

"  I  did  not  hear  it,"  he  said. 

"  That's  complimentary.  But  you  appeared  listen 
ing  very  closely." 

"You  have  heard  of  people  reading  a  different 
meaning  between  the  lines,  and  I  suppose  one  can 
listen  to  a  different  meaning." 

"  And  what  could  you  find  between  the  lines  of 
this  fairy  tale  ?"  she  asked  with  interest. 

"  It  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  explain — some 
thing  too  vague  and  indefinite  for  words,  I  fear.  But 
if  you  will  read  me  something  else  I  will  listen  to  the 
text  itself." 

"Come,  children,  scamper  off  to  the  garret,"  said 
Annie,  "  and  remember  you  are  nearer  heaven  up 
there,  and  so  must  be  very  kind  and  gentle  to  eacn 
other." 

"  You  will  fill  those  youngsters'  heads  with  beauti 
ful  superstitions." 

"  Superstition  and  faith  are  not  so  very  far  apart; 
though  so  unlike." 


WITCHCRAFT.  97 

"  Yes,  it  is  hard  to  tell  where  one  le?v<ss  off  and 
the  other  begins." 

"Is  it?" 

"Isn't  it?" 

"  I  don't  like  to  contradict  you,  sir." 

"  You  have  contradicted  me,  and  I  suppose  '  it  is 
manly  to  yield  to  a  lady.' ' 

"Not  in  matters  of  principle  and  honest  con* 
viction." 

"  Alas  !  if  one  has  not  very  much  of  either !  " 

"  It  is  a  very  great  misfortune,  and,  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  add,  fault." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  a  misfortune,  Miss  Walton  ; 
but  you  are  not  reading." 

"  Well,  make  your  choice." 

"  I  leave  it  entirely  to  you." 

"  You  don't  look  very  well  to-day.  I  will  select 
something  light  and  cheerful  from  Dickens." 

"  Excuse  me,  please.  I  am  in  no  mood  for  his 
deliberate  purpose  to  make  one  laugh." 

"Then  here  is  Irving.  His  style  flows  like  a 
meadow  brook." 

"  No,  he  is  too  sentimental." 

"  Walter  Scott,  then,  will  form  a  happy  medium." 

"No,  he  wearies  one  with  explanations  and  his 
tory." 

"  Some  of  Tennyson's  dainty  idyls  will  suit  your 
fastidious  taste." 

"  I  couldn't  abide  his  affected,  stilted  language  ^>- 
day." 

"  Shakespeare,  then  ;  you  regard  him  as  perfect.' 


98  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"No,  he  makes  me  think,  and  I  do  not  wish  to." 

"  Well,  here  are  newspapers,  the  latest  magazine, 
and  some  new  novels." 

"  Modern  rubbish — a  mushroom  growth.  They 
will  soon  kindle  kitchen  fires  instead  of  thought." 

"  Then  I  must  make  an  expedition  to  the  library. 
What  shall  I  bring?  There  is  Mosheim's  '  Ecclesias 
tical  Ancient  History';  that  has  a  solid,  venerable 
sound.  Or,  if  you  prefer  poetry,  I  will  get  Gray's 
*  Elegy/  That  cannot  be  a  literary  mushroom,  for 
he  was  twenty  years  writing  it.  But  perhaps  it  is 
Tupper  you  would  like.  That  would  suit  your 
mood  exactly,  Tupper's  *  Proverbial  Philosophy. '  " 

"You  are  growing  satirical,  Miss  Walton.  Why 
don't  you  assert  plainly  that  I  am  as  full  of  whims 
as  a  — " 

"  Woman,  would  you  like  to  say  ?  " 

"  Present  company  excepted.  The  fact  is,  I  am 
two-thirds  ill  to-day,  and  the  most  faultless  style  and 
theme  in  our  language  would  weaiy  me.  I  am  pos 
sessed  by  the  evil  spirits  of  ennui,  unrest,  and  dis 
gust  at  myself  and  all  the  world,  present  company 
always  excepted.  Do  you  know  of  any  spell  that 
can  exorcise  these  demons  ?  " 

4<  Yes,  a  very  simple  one.  Will  you  put  yourself 
absolutely  in  my  power  and  obey  ?  " 

"  I  am  your  slave." 

Miss  Walton  left  the  room  and  soon  returned  with 
a  large  afghan.  "  You  must  take  a  horizontal  posi 
tion  in  order  that  my  spell  may  work." 

"  Pshaw  !  you  are  prescribing  an  ordinary  nap." 


WITCHCRAFT.  99 

"  I  am  glad  to  say  the  best  things  in  this  world  are 
ordinary.  But  permit  me  to  suggest  that  in  view  of 
your  pledged  word  you  have  nothing  to  do  in  this 
matter  but  to  obey." 

"  Very  well ;  "  and  he  threw  himself  on  the  sofa, 

"  The  day  is  chilly,  sir,  and  I  must  throw  this 
afghan  over  you  ;"  and  she  did  so  with  a  little  touch 
of  delicacy  which  is  so  grateful  when  one  is  indis 
posed. 

Her  manner  both  soothed  and  pleased  him. 

He  was  more  lonely  than  he  realized,  for  it  had 
been  years  since  he  had  experienced  woman's  gentle 
care  and  ministry;  and  Annie  Walton  had  a  power 
possessed  by  few  to  put  jangling  nerves  at  rest. 
Suddenly  he  said,  "  I  wish  I  had  a  sister  like  you." 

"  My  creed,  you  know,"  she  replied,  "  makes  al) 
mankind  kindred." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Gregory,  irritably ;  "  deliver 
me  from  your  church  sisters." 

"  Take  care  !  "  she  answered,  with  a  warning  nod, 
"I'm  a  church  sister ;  so  don't  drive  me  away,  for  I 
am  going  to  sing  you  to  sleep." 

"  I'm  half  inclined  to  join  your  church  that  I  may 
call  you  sister." 

"  You  would  be  disciplined  and  excommunicated 
within  a  month.  But  hush  ;  you  must  not  talk." 

"  How  would  you  treat  me  after  I  had  been  ana 
thematized  ?  " 

"  If  you  were  as  ill  as  you  are  to-day  I  would  make 
you  sleep.  Hush ;  not  another  word.  I  am  going 
to  sing." 


100  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

A  luxurious  sense  of  comfort  stole  over  him,  and 
he  composed  himself  to  listen  and  criticise,  Ifttle 
imagining,  though,  that  he  would  fall  asleep.  He 
saw  through  the  window  a  lowering  sky  with  leaden 
clouds  driven  wildly  across  it.  The  wind  moaned 
and  soughed  around  the  angles  of  the  house,  and  the 
rain  beat  against  the  glass.  All  without  seemed 
emblematic  of  himself.  But  now  he  had  a  brief  but 
blessed  sense  of  shelter  from  both  the  storm  and  him 
self.  The  fire  blazed  cheerily  on  the  hearth.  The 
afghan  seemed  to  envelop  him  like  a  genial  atmos 
phere.  Had  Miss  Walton  bewitched  it  by  her  touch  ? 
And  now  she  has  found  something  to  suit  her,  or 
rather  him,  and  is  singing. 

"  What  an  unusual  voice  she  has ! "  he  thought. 
"  Truly  the  spirit  of  David's  harp,  that  could  banish 
the  demon  from  Saul,  dwells  in  it.  I  wonder  if  she 
is  as  good  and  real  as  she  seems,  or  whether,  under 
the  stress  of  temptation  or  the  poison  of  flattery,  she 
would  not  show  herself  a  true  daughter  of  Eve  ?  I 
must  find  out,  for  it  is  about  the  only  remaining 
question  that  interests  me.  If  she  is  like  the  rest  of 
us — if  she  is  a  female  Hunting — then  good-by  to  all 
hope.  I  shall  not  live  to  find  anybody  or  anything 
to  trust.  If  she  is  what  she  seems,  it's  barely  pos 
sible  that  she  might  help  me  out  of  this  horrible 
1  slough  of  despond,'  if  she  would  take  tne  trouble. 
I  wish  that  she  were  my  sister,  or  that  my  sister 
lived  and  had  been  just  like  her." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MISS  WALTON   RECOMMENDS  A  HOBBY. 

TO  Gregory's  surprise  he  waked  and  then  admitted 
to  himself  that,  contrary  to  his  expectation  and 
purpose,  he  had  been  asleep.  His  last  remembered 
consciousness  was  that  of  sweet,  low  music ;  and 
how  long  ago  was  that  ?  He  looked  at  his  watch; 
it  was  nearly  two,  and  he  must  h?ve  slept  several 
hours.  He  glanced  around  and  saw  that  he  was 
alone,  but  the  fire  still  blazed  on  the  hearth,  and  the 
afghan  infolded  him  with  its  genial  warmth  as  before, 
and  it  seemed  that  although  by  himself  he  was  still 
cared  for. 

"  She  is  a  witch,"  he  muttered.  "  Her  spells  are 
no  jokes.  But  I  will  investigate  her  case  like  an  old- 
time  Salem  inquisitor.  With  more  than  Yankee 
curiosity,  which  was  at  the  bottom  of  their  supersti 
tious  questionings,  I  will  pry  into  her  power.  But 
she  will  find  that  she  has  a  wary  sceptic  to  convince. 
I  have  seen  too  many  saints  and  sinners  to  be  again 
deceived  by  fair  seeming." 

A  broad  ray  of  sunlight  shot  across  the  room. 
"  By  my  soul !  it's  clearing  off.  Is  this  her  work 
also?  Has  she  swept  away  the  clouds  with  her 
broomstick  ?  And  there  goes  the  dinner-bell,  too  ;  *' 


102  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  he  went  to  his  room  two  steps  at  a  time,  as  he 
had  done  when  a  boy. 

Annie  coming  out  of  the  sitting-room  at  that 
moment,  smiled  and  said:  "  He  must  be  better." 

At  the  table  she  asked,  "  How  do  you  find  your 
self  now  ?  " 

"  Much  given  to  appetite."  Then,  turning  to  Mr. 
Walton,  he  said,  abruptly,  "  Do  you  believe  in  witch 
craft?" 

"  Well,  no,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  a  little  taken 
aback. 

"  I  do  !  "  continued  he,  emphatically. 

"When  and  where  have  you  had  experiance  ot 
the  black  art?" 

"  This  morning,  and  in  your  house,  sir." 

"You  seem  none  the  worse  for  it,"  said  his  host, 
smiling. 

"  Indeed,  I  have  not  felt  so  well  in  months.  Your 
larder  will  suffer  if  I  am  practised  upon  any  more." 

"  Well,  of  all  modern  and  prosaic  results  of  witch, 
ery  this  exceeds,"  said  Annie,  laughing,  "since  only 
a  good  appetite  comes  of  it." 

"  It  yet  remains  to  be  seen  whether  this  is  the  only 
result,"  replied  Gregory.  "  What  possessed  the  old 
Puritans  to  persecute  the  Salem  witches  is  a  mystery 
to  me,  if  their  experience  was  anything  like  mine." 

"  You  must  remember  that  the  question  of  what 
was  agreeable  or  otherwise  scarcely  entered  into  a 
Puritan's  motives." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  he  answered,  quickly. 
"  It  has  ever  seemed  to  me  that  the  good  people  of 


MISS  WALTON  RECOMMENDS  A  HOBBY.       103 

other  days  went  into  persecution  with  a  zeal  tnat 
abstract  right  can  hardly  account  for.  People  will 
have  their  excitements,  and  a  good  rousing  persecu 
tion  used  to  stir  things  like  the  burning  of  Chicago 
or  a  Presidential  election  in  our  day." 

"Granting,"  said  Annie,  "  the  bigotry  and  cruelty 
of  the  persecutor, — and  these  must  be  mainly 
charged  to  the  age, — still  you  must  admit  that 
among  them  were  earnest  men  who  did  from  good 
motives  what  appears  very  wrong  to  us.  What 
seemed  to  them  evil  and  destructive  principles  were 
embodied  in  men  and  women,  and  they  meant  to 
destroy  the  evil  through  the  suffering  and  death  of 
these  poor  creatures." 

"  And  then  consider  the  simplicity  and  ease  of  the 
persecutor's  method,"  continued  Gregory,  mock 
ingly.  "  A  man's  head  has  become  full  of  supposed 
doctrinal  errors.  To  refute  and  banish  these  would 
require  much  study  and  argument  on  the  part  of  the 
opponent.  It  was  so  much  easier  to  take  an  obsti 
nate  heretic's  head  off  than  to  argue  with  him !  I 
think  it  was  the  simplicity  of  the  persecutor's  method 
that  kept  it  in  favor  so  long." 

"  But  it  never  convinced  any  one,"  said  Annie, 
"  and  the  man  killed  merely  goes  into  another  world 
of  the  same  opinion  still." 

"And  there  probably  learns,  poor  fellow,  that 
both  were  wrong,  and  that  he  had  better  have  been 
content  with  good  dinners  and  a  quiet  life,  and  let 
theology  alone." 

"  The  world  would  move  but  slowly,  if  all  men 


104  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

were  content  with  'good  dinners  and  a  quiet  life/* 
said  Annie,  satirically.  "  But  you  have  not  answered 
my  question.  Could  not  good,  earnest  men  have 
been  very  cruel,  believing  that  everything  depended 
on  their  uprooting  some  evil  of  their  day  ?  " 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  Miss  Walton,"  he  replied,  a  lit- 
tie  nettled,  "  I  have  no  sympathy  with  that  style  of 
men.  To  me  they  are  very  repulsive  and  ridiculous. 
They  remind  me  of  the  breathless,  perspiring  politi 
cians  of  our  time,  who  button-hole  you  and  assert  that 
the  world  will  come  to  an  end  unless  John  Smith  is 
elected.  To  me,  the  desperate  earnestness  of  people 
who  imagine  it  their  mission  to  set  the  world  right 
is  excessively  tiresome.  For  one  man  or  a  thousand 
to  proclaim  that  they  speak  for  God  and  embody 
truth,  and  that  the  race  should  listen  and  obey,  is 
the  absurdity  of  arrogance." 

"  If  we  were  to  agree  with  you,  should  we  not  have 
to  say  that  the  prophets  should  have  kept  their  vis 
ions  to  themselves,  and  that  Luther  should  have 
remained  in  his  cell,  and  Columbus  have  coasted 
alongshore  and  not  insisted  on  what  was  to  all  the 
world  an  absurdity  ?  " 

"Come,  Miss  Walton,"  said  Gregory,  with  a  vexed 
laugh  as  they  rose  from  the  table,  "  you  are  a  witch. 
I  am  willing  to  argue  with  flesh  and  blood,  but  I 
would  rather  hear  you  sing.  Still,  since  you  have 
swept  away  these  clouds  so  I  can  have  my  ramble,  I 
will  forgive  you  for  unhorsing  me  in  our  recent  tilt." 

"If  you  would  mount  some  good  honest  hobby 
and  ride  it  hard,  I  doubt  whether  any  one  could 


MISS  WALTON  RECOMMENDS  A  HOBBY.       105 

unhorse  you,"  she  replied  in  a  low  tone,  as  she  accom 
panied  him  to  the  parlor. 

"  Men  with  hobbies  are  my  detestation,  Miss  Wal 
ton." 

"  Nevertheless,  they  are  the  true  knights-errant  of 
our  age.  Of  course  it  depends  upon  what  kind  of 
hobbies  they  ride,  or  whether  they  can  manage  their 
steeds." 

"  Miss  Walton,  your  figure  suggests  a  half-idiot, 
with  a  narrow  forehead  and  one  idea,  banging  back 
and  forth  on  a  wooden  horse,  but  making  no  pro-, 
gress, — in  other  words,  a  fussy,  bustling  man  who 
can  do  and  talk  but  one  thing." 

"  Your  understanding  of  the  popular  phrase  is  nar 
row  and  literal,  and  while  it  may  have  such  a  meaning, 
it  can  also  have  a  very  different  one.  Suppose  that, 
Instead  of  looking  with  languid  eyes  alike  upon  all 
things,  a  man  finds  some  question  of  vital  import,  or 
a  pursuit  that  promises  good  to  himself  and  to  others 
and  that  enlists  his  interest.  He  comes  at  last  to 
give  it  his  best  energies  and  thought.  The  whole 
current  of  his  life  is  setting  in  that  direction.  Of 
course  he  must  ever  be  under  the  restraints  of  good 
sense  and  refinement.  A  man's  life  without  a  hobby 
is  a  weak  and  wavering  line  of  battle  indefinitely 
long.  One's  life  with  a  hobby  is  a  concentrated 
charge." 

There  was  in  Miss  Walton's  face  and  manner,  as 
she  uttered  these  words,  that  which  caused  him  to 
regard  her  with  involuntary  admiration.  Suddenly 
he  asked,  "  Have  you  a  hobby  ?  " 


Io6  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Her  manner  changed  instantly,  and  with  an  arch 
look  she  said,  "  If  you  detest  a  man  with  a  hobby, 
what  a  monster  a  woman  with  one  would  be  in  your 
eyes !  " 

"  I  have  admitted  that  you  are  a  witch." 

"  Oh,  I  am  a  monster  already,  and  so  have  no 
character  to  lose.  But  where  is  your  penetration? 
If  a  man  with  a  hobby  is  idiotic,  narrow-browed, 
fussy  and  bustling,  excessively  obtrusive  with  his 
one  idea,  a  woman  must  be  like  him  with  all  these 
things  exaggerated.  Has  it  not  occurred  to  you 
that  I  have  a  hobby  of  the  most  wooden  and 
clumsy  order?" 

"  But  that  was  my  idea  of  a  hobby.  You  have 
spiritualized  my  wooden  block  into  a  Pegasus — the 
symbol  of  inspiration.  Have  you  such  a  hobby  ?  " 

"  I  have." 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

She  went  out  of  the  room,  saying  smilingly  over 
her  shoulder,  "You  must  find  that  out  for  yourself." 


CHAPTER   X. 

A  PLOT  AGAINST  MISS  WALTON. 

GREGORY  was  soon  off  for  his  ramble.  The 
vJ  storm  had  cleared  away,  leaving  the  air  so 
warm  and  genial  as  to  suggest  spring  rather  than 
fall ;  but  he  was  quite  oblivious  of  the  outer  world, 
and  familiar  scenes  had  not  the  power  to  awaken 
either  pleasant  or  painful  associations.  He  was  try- 
ing  to  account  for  the  influence  that  Annie  Walton 
had  suddenly  gained  over  him,  but  it  was  beyond 
his  philosophy.  This  provoked  him.  His  cool, 
worldly  nature  doubted  everything  and  especially 
everybody.  He  believed  in  the  inherent  weakness 
of  humanity,  and  that  if  people  were  exceptionally 
good  it  was  because  they  had  been  exceptionally 
fortunate  in  escaping  temptation.  He  also  had  a 
cynical  pleasure  in  seeing  such  people  tripping  and 
stumbling,  so  that  he  might  say  in  self-excusing, 
"We  are  all  alike." 

And  yet  he  was  compelled  to  admit  that  if  Annie's 
goodness  was  seeming  it  was  higher  art  than  he  had 
known  before.  There  was  also  an  unconscious  asser 
tion  of  superiority  in  her  manner  that  he  did  not 
like.  True,  things  had  turned  out  far  better  than 


Io8  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

he  had  expected.  There  was  no  cant  about  her. 
She  did  not  lecture  him  or  "  talk  religion "  in 
what  he  regarded  as  the  stereotyped  way,  and  he 
was  sure  she  would  not,  even  if  they  became  better 
acquainted.  But  there  is  that  in  genuine  goodness 
and  nobility  of  character  that  always  humiliates  the 
bad  and  makes  them  feel  their  degradation.  A  real 
pity  and  sympathy  for  him  tinged  her  manner,  but 
these  qualities  are  not  agreeable  to  pride.  And  it 
must  be  admitted  that  she  had  a  little  self-righteous 
satisfaction  that  she  was  so  much  better  than  this 
sadly  robbed  and  wounded  man  suddenly  appearing 
at  the  wayside  of  her  life.  In  human  strength  there 
is  generally  a  trace  of  arrogance.  Only  divine 
strength  and  purity  can  say  with  perfect  love  and 
full  allowance  for  all  weakness  and  adverse  influ 
ences,  "  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee ;  go,  and  sin  no 
more." 

Gregory  had  now  reached  a  rustic  bridge  across  a 
little  stream  that,  swollen  from  the  recent  rain,  came 
gurgling  and  clamoring  down  from  the  hills. 
Leaning  upon  the  rail  he  seemed  to  watch  the  foam 
ing  water  glide  under  his  feet  ;  but  the  outward  vis 
ion  made  no  impression  on  his  mind. 

At  last  in  the  consciousness  of  solitude  he  said  : 
"She  told  me  I  must  find  her  out.  I  will.  I  will 
know  whether  she  is  as  free  from  human  frailty  as 
she  seems.  I  have  little  doubt  that  before  many 
days  I  can  cause  her  to  show  all  the  inherent  weak 
nesses  of  her  sex  ;  and  I  should  think  New  York  and 
Paris  had  taught  me  what  they  are.  She  has  nevef 


A  PLOT  AGAINST  MISS  WALTON.  TOg 

been  tempted.  She  has  never  been  subjected  to  the 
delicate  flattery  of  an  accomplished  man  of  the  world. 
I  am  no  gross  libertine.  I  could  not  be  in  this  place. 
I  could  not  so  wrong  hospitality  and  the  household 
of  my  father's  friend.  But  I  should  like  to  prove  to 
that  girl  her  delusion,  and  show  her  that  she  is  a  weak 
woman  like  the  rest ;  that  she  is  a  pretty  painted 
ship  that  has  never  been  in  a  storm,  and  therefore 
need  not  sail  so  confidently.  We  all  start  on  the 
voyage  of  life  as  little  skiffs  and  pleasure  boats 
might  cross  the  ocean.  If  any  get  safely  over,  it  is 
because  they  were  lucky  enough  not  to  meet  danger 
ous  currents  or  rough  weather.  I  should  like  her 
better  with  her  piquant  ways  if  she  were  more  like 
myself.  Saints  and  Madonnas  are  well  enough  in 
pictures,  but  such  as  I  would  find  them  very  uncoiru 
fortable  society." 

With  sudden  power  the  thought  flashed  upon  him, 
"  Why  not  let  her  make  you  as  she  is  ?  "  Where  did 
the  thought  come  from?  Tell  me  not  that  the 
Divine  Father  forgets  His  children.  He  is  speaking 
to  them  continually,  only  they  will  not  hear.  There 
was  a  brief  passionate  wish  on  the  part  of  this  bad 
man  that  she  might  be  what  she  seemed  and  that  he 
could  become  like  her.  As  the  turbulent,  muddy 
Jordan  divided  that  God's  people  might  pass  through, 
so  this  thought  from  heaven  found  passage  through 
his  heart,  and  then  the  current  of  sinful  impulse  and 
habit  flowed  on  as  before.  With  the  stupidity  of 
evil  he  was  breaking  the  clew  that  God  had  dropped 
into  his  hand  even  when  desperately  weary  of  his 


1 1 o  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  B  URR. 

lost  state.  He  is  wrecked  and  helpless  on  the  wide 
ocean  ;  a  ship  is  coming  to  his  rescue;  and  his  first 
effort  is  that  this  vessel  also  may  be  wrecked  01 
greatly  injured  in  the  attempt. 

There  is  no  insanity  like  that  of  a  perverted  heart. 
The  adversary  of  souls  has  so  many  human  victims 
doing  his  work  that  he  can  fold  his  hands  in  idle 
ness.  And  yet  according  to  the  world's  practice, 
and  we  might  almost  say  its  code,  Gregory  purposed 
nothing  that  would  be  severely  condemned, — noth 
ing  more  than  an  ordinary  flirtation,  as  common  in 
society  as  idleness,  love  of  excitement,  and  that 
power  over  others  which  ministers  to  vanity.  He  had 
no  wish  to  be  able  to  say  anything  worse  of  her  than 
that  under  temptation  she  would  be  as  vain  and 
heartless  a  coquette  as  many  others  that  he  knew 
in  what  is  regarded  as  good  society.  He  would  have 
cut  off  his  right  hand,  as  he  then  felt,  rather  than 
have  sought  to  lead  her  into  gross  sin. 

And  yet  what  did  Gregory  purpose  in  regard  to 
Annie  but  to  take  the  heavenly  bloom  and  beauty 
from  her  character?  As  if  they  can  be  lovely  to 
either  God  or  man  of  whom  it  can  be  said  only, 
They  commit  no  overt  crime.  What  is  the  form  of 
a  rose  without  its  beauty  and  fragrance  ?  They  who 
tempt  to  evil  are  the  real  iconoclasts.  They  destroy 
God's  image. 

But  the  supreme  question  of  the  selfish  heart  is, 
"  What  do  I  want  now  ?  " 

Gregory  wished  to  satisfy  himself  and  Miss  Walton 
that  she  had  no  grounds  for  claiming  any  special 


A  PLOT  A  GAINST  MISS  WAL  TON.  1 1 1 

superiority  over  him,  and  he  turned  on  his  heel  and 
went  back  to  the  house  to  carry  out  his  purpose. 
Nature,  purified  and  beautiful  by  reason  of  its  recent 
baptism  from  heaven,  had  no  attractions  for  him. 
Gems  of  moisture  sparkled  unseen.  He  was  plan 
ning  and  scheming  to  turn  her  head  with  vanity, 
make  her  quiet  life  of  ministry  to  others  odious,  and 
draw  her  into  a  fashionable  flirtation. 

Annie  did  not  appear  until  the  supper-bell  sum 
moned  her,  and  then  said,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  I  hope 
you  will  not  think  it  rude  if  father  and  I  leave  you 
to  your  books  and  Aunt  Eulie's  care  this  evening. 
It  is  our  church  prayer-meeting  night,  and  father 
never  likes  to  be  absent." 

"  I  shall  miss  you  beyond  measure.  The  evening 
will  seem  an  age." 

Something  in  his  tone  caused  her  to  give  him  a 
quick  glance,  but  she  only  said,  with  a  smile,  "  You 
are  very  polite  to  say  so,  but  I  imagine  the  last 
magazine  will  be  a  good  substitute." 

"  I  doubt  whether  there  is  a  substitute  for  you, 
Miss  Walton.  I  am  coming  to  believe  that  your 
absence  would  make  that  vacuum  which  nature  so 
dreads.  You  shall  see  how  good  I  will  be  this  even 
ing,  and  you  shall  read  me  everything  you  please, 
even  to  that  '  Ancient  Ecclesiastical  History.'  If 
you  will  only  stay  I  will  be  your  slave ;  and  you 
shall  rule  me  with  a  rod  of  iron  or  draw  me  with 
the  silken  cords  of  kindness,  according  to  your 
tnood." 

"It  is  not  well  to  have   too   many   moods,    Mr. 


1 1 2  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  B  URR. 

Gregory,"  said  Annie,  quietly.  "  In  reply  to  all 
your  alluring  reasons  for  staying  at  home  I  have 
only  to  say  that  I  have  promised  father  to  go  with 
him ;  besides,  I  think  it  is  my  duty  to  go." 

" '  Duty '  is  a  harsh,  troublesome  word  to  be  always 
quoting.  It  is  a  kind  of  strait-jacket  which  we  poor 
moral  lunatics  are  compelled  to  wear." 

"  '  Duty '  seems  to  me  a  good  solid  road  on  which 
one  may  travel  safely.  One  never  knows  where  the 
side  paths  lead :  into  the  brambles  or  a  morass  like 
enough." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  such  austerity  is  not 
becoming  to  your  youth  and  beauty." 

"What  am  I  to  think  of  your  sincerity  when  you 
speak  of  my  beauty,  Mr.  Gregory  ?  " 

"  Beauty  is  a  question  of  taste,"  answered  Greg 
ory,  gallantly.  "  It  is  settled  by  no  rigid  rules  or 
principles,  but  by  the  eyes  of  the  observer." 

"  Oh  !  I  understand  now.  My  beauty  this  even 
ing  is  the  result  of  your  bad  taste." 

"  Calling  it  '  bad  '  does  not  make  it  so.  Well,  since 
you  will  not  remain  at  home  with  me,  will  you  not  let 
me  go  with  you  to  the  prayer-meeting?  If  I'm 
ever  to  join  your  church,  it  is  time  I  entered  on  the 
initiating  mysteries." 

"  I  think  a  book  will  do  you  more  good  in  your 
present  mood." 

"What  a  low  estimate  you  make  of  the  'means  of 
grace' !  Why,  certain  of  your  own  poets  have  said, 
'And  fools  who  came  to  scoff  remained  to  pray.' " 

"  The  quotation  does  not  apply  to  you,  Mr.  Greg« 


A  PLOT  AGAINST  MISS  WALTOtf.  113 

ory.  For,  even  if  you  can  doubt  the  power  and 
truth  of  Christianity  the  memory  of  your  childhood 
will  prevent  you  from  scoffing  at  it." 

A  sudden  shadow  came  across  his  face,  but  after 
a  moment  he  said,  in  his  old  tones  : 

"  Will  you  not  let  me  go  to  the  prayer-meeting  ?  " 

"  Father  will  be  glad  to  have  you  go  with  us,  if 
you  think  it  prudent  to  venture  out  in  the  night 
air." 

"Prudence  to  the  dogs!  What  is  the  use  of 
living  if  we  cannot  do  as  we  please  ?  But  will  you 
be  glad  to  have  me  go  !  " 

"  That  depends  upon  your  motives." 

"  If  I  should  confess  you  wouldn't  let  me  go,"  he 
replied  with  a  bow.  "  But  I  will  try  to  be  as  good 
as  possible,  just  to  reward  your  kindness." 

The  rest  of  the  family  now  joined  them  in  the 
supper-room,  and  during  the  meal  Walter  exerted 
himself  to  show  how  entertaining  he  could  be  if  he 
chose.  Anecdotes,  incidents  of  travel,  graphic 
sketches  of  society,  and  sallies  of  wit,  made  an  hour 
pass  before  any  one  was  aware. 

Even  the  children  listened  with  wondering  eyes, 
and  Mr.  Walton  and  Miss  Eulie  were  delighted 
with  the  vivacity  of  their  guest.  Annie  apparently 
had  no  reason  to  complain  of  him,  for  his  whole 
manner  toward  her  during  the  hour  was  that  of  deli 
cately  sustained  compliment.  When  she  spoke  he 
listened  with  deference,  and  her  words  usually  had 
point  and  meaning.  He  also  gave  to  her  remarks 
the  best  interpretation  of  which  they  were  capable, 


114  OPENING  A  CHL  ^  TNUT  B  URR. 

and  by  skilfully  drawing  her  out  made  her  surpass 
even  herself,  so  that  Miss  Eulie  said,  "  Why,  Annie, 
there  surely  is  some  witchcraft  about.  You  and  Mr. 
Gregory  are  as  brilliant  as  fireworks." 

"  It's  all  Miss  Walton's  work,  I  assure  you,"  said 
Gregory.  "  As  Pat  declared,  '  I'm  not  meself  any 
more,'  and  shall  surprise  you,  sir,  by  asking  if  I  may 
go  to  the  prayer-meeting.  Miss  Walton  says  I  can 
if  I  will  behave  myself.  The  last  time  I  went  to  the 
old  place  I  made  faces  at  the  girls.  I  suppose  that 
would  be  wrong." 

"  That  is  the  sin  of  our  age, — making  faces,"  said 
Annie.  "  Many  have  two,  and  some  can  make  for 
themselves  even  more." 

"  Now  that  was  a  barbed  arrow,"  said  Gregory, 
looking  at  her  keenly.  "  Did  you  let  it  fly  at  a 
venture?" 

"  Bless  me  !  "  said  Mr.  Walton,  rising  hastily,  "  we 
should  have  been  on  the  road  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
ago.  You  mustn't  be  so  entertaining  another  prayer- 
meeting  night,  Mr.  Gregory.  Of  course  we  shall  be 
glad  to  have  you  accompany  us  if  you  feel  well 
enough.  I  give  you  both  but  five  minutes  before  join 
ing  me  at  the  wagon." 

Walter  again  mounted  the  stairs  with  something 
of  his  old  buoyancy,  and  Annie  followed,  looking 
curiously  after  him. 

It  was  not  in  human  nature  to  be  indifferent  to 
that  most  skilful  flattery  which  can  be  addressed  to 
woman, — the  recognition  of  her  cleverness,  and  the 
enhancing  of  it  by  adroit  and  suggestive  questions, — 


A  PLOT  AGAINST  MISS  WALSO&,  **§ 

and  yet  all  his  manner  was  tinged  by  a  certain  msin* 
cere  gallantry,  rather  than  by  a  manly,  honest  re 
spect  She  vaguely  felt  this,  though  she  could 
not  distinctly  point  it  out;  He  puzzled  her.  V/hat 
did  he  mean,  and  at  what  was  he  aiming  ? 


CHAPTER  XL 

A   DRtNKING-SONG   AT  A   PRAYER-MEETING. 

HAVING  failed  in  his  attempt  to  induce  Annie  to 
remain  at  home,  Gregory  resolved  that  the 
prayer-meeting  should  not  be  one  of  quiet  devo 
tion.  Mr.  Walton  made  him,  as  an  invalid,  take  the 
back  seat  with  Annie,  while  he  sat  with  the  driver, 
and  Gregory,  after  a  faint  show  of  resistance,  gladly 
complied. 

"  It's  chilly.  Won't  you  give  me  half  of  your 
shawl  ?  "  he  said  to  her. 

"You  may  have  it  all,"  she  replied,  about  to 
take  it  off. 

"  No,  I'll  freeze  first.  Do  the  brethren  and  sisters 
sit  together?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered,  laughing,  "  we  have  got  in 
the  queer  way  of  dividing  the  room  between  us,  and 
the  few  men  who  attend  sit  on  one  side  and  we  on 
the  other." 

"  Oh,  it's  almost  a  female  prayer-meeting  then.  Do 
the  sisters  pray?" 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  not  a  stranger  here  that 
you  need  pretend  to  such  ignorance.  I  think  tka 


A  DRINKING-SONG  AT  A  PR  A  YER-MEE  TING.     1 1  ? 

meeting  is  conducted  very  much  as  when  you  were 
a  boy." 

"  With  this  most  interesting  difference,  that  you 
will  be  there  and  will  sing,  I  hope.  Miss  Walton, 
where  did  you  learn  to  sing  ?  " 

"  Mainly  at  home." 

"  I  should  think  so.  Your  voice  is  as  unlike  that 
of  a  public  singer  as  you  are  unlike  the  singer  her 
self." 

"  It  must  seem  very  tame  to  you." 

"  It  seems  very  different.  We  have  an  artificial- 
flower  department  in  our  store.  There  is  no  lack  of 
color  and  form  there,  I  assure  you,  but  after  all  I 
would  prefer  your  rose  garden  in  June." 

"  But  you  would  probably  prefer  your  artificial- 
flower  department  the  rest  of  the  year,"  said  Annie, 
laughing. 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"  Our  roses  are  annuals  and  are  only  prosaic  briers 
after  their  bloom." 

"  Imagine  them  hybrid  perpetuals  and  monthlies 
and  you  have  my  meaning.  But  your  resemblance 
to  a  rose  extends  even  to  its  thorns.  Your  words  are 
a  little  sharp  sometimes." 

"  In  the  thorns  the  resemblance  begins  and  ends, 
Mr.  Gregory.  I  assure  you  I  am  a  veritable  Scotch 
brier.  But  here  we  are  at  our  destination.  I  won 
der  if  you  will  see  many  old,  remembered  faces." 

"  I  shall  be  content  in  seeing  yours,"  he  replied  in 
a  low  tone,  pressing  her  hand  as  he  assisted  her  to 
alight. 


Xl8  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

If  he  could  have  seen  the  expression  of  her  face 
in  the  darkness  it  would  have  satisfied  him  that  she 
did  not  receive  that  style  of  compliment  like  many 
of  the  belles  of  his  acquaintance,  who  would  take 
the  small  change  of  flattery  with  the  smiling  compla 
cency  of  a  public  door-keeper. 

They  were  late.  The  good  old  pastor  was  absent^ 
and  one  of  the  brethren  was  reading  a  chapter  in  the 
Bible.  Gregory  took  a  seat  where  he  could  see 
Annie  plainly,  and  she  sat  witk  her  side  face  toward 
him. 

He  watched  her  keenly,  in  order  to  see  if  she 
showed  any  consciousness  of  his  presence.  The 
only  evidence  in  his  favor  was  a  slight  flush  and  a 
firmness  about  the  lips,  as  if  her  will  was  asserting 
itself.  But  soon  her  face  had  the  peaceful  and  seri 
ous  expression  becoming  the  place  and  hour,  and  he 
saw  that  she  had  no  thoughts  for  him  whatever. 
He  was  determined  to  distract  her  attention,  and  by 
restlessness,  by  looking  fixedly  at  her,  sought  her 
eye,  but  only  secured  the  notice  of  some  young 
girls  who  thought  him  "  badly  smitten  with  Miss 
Walton." 

The  long  chapter  having  been  read,  a  hymn  was 
given  out.  The  gentleman  who  usually  led  the 
music  was  also  absent,  and  there  was  an  ominous 
pause,  in  which  the  good  brother's  eye  wandered 
appealingly  around  the  room  and  at  last  rested  hope 
fully  on  Annie.  She  did  not  fail  him,  but,  with 
heightened  color  and  voice  that  trembled  slightly  at 
first,  "started  the  tune."  It  was  a  sweet,  familiar 


A  DRINKING-SONG  AT  A  PRA  YER-MEE  TING.     1 1 9 

air,  and  she  soon  had  the  support  of  other  voices. 
One  after  another  they  joined  her  in  widely  varying 
degrees  of  melody,  even  as  the  example  of  a  noble 
life  will  gradually  secure  a  number  of  more  or  less 
successful  imitators. 

Gregory  had  seen  the  appeal  to  her  with  an 
amused,  half-comical  look,  but  her  sincere  and  ready 
performance  of  the  duty  that  had  unexpectedly 
revealed  itself  rapidly  changed  the  expression  of 
his  face  to  one  of  respect  and  admiration.  Distinct, 
and  yet  blending  with  the  others,  her  voice  seemed 
both  to  key  up  and  hide  the  little  roughnesses  and 
discords  of  some  who  perhaps  had  more  melody  in 
their  hearts  than  in  their  tones. 

Again  a  divine  impulse,  like  a  flower-laden  breeze 
sweeping  into  a  dark  and  grated  vault  at  Greenwood, 
stirred  Gregory's  evil  nature. 

"  Let  her  teach  you  the  harmony  of  noble,  unself 
ish  living.  Follow  her  in  thought,  feeling,  and 
action,  as  those  stammering,  untuned  tongues  do 
in  melody,  and  the  blight  of  evil  will  pass  from 
your  life.  Seek  not  to  muddy  and  poison  this 
clear  little  rill  that  is  watering  a  bit  of  God's  world. 
Grant  that  her  goodness  is  not  real,  established,  and 
thoroughly  tested, — that  it  is  only  a  pretty  surface 
picture.  Seek  not  to  blur  that  picture." 

But  the  evil  heart  is  like  Sodom.  Good  angel- 
thoughts  may  come  to  it,  but  they  are  treated  with 
violence  and  driven  out.  His  habit  of  cynical  doubt 
soon  returned,  and  his  purpose  to  show  Miss  Wal 
ton  that  she  was  a  weak,  vain  woman  after  all  be 
came  stronger  than  ever. 


120  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

It  seemed  to  have  come  to  this,  that  his  salvation 
depended  on,  not  what  Miss  Walton  could  say  or 
do  directly  in  his  behalf,  but  upon  her  maintenance 
of  a  character  that  even  a  sceptical  world  must 
acknowledge  as  inspired  by  heaven,  and  this,  too, 
against  a  tempter  of  unusual  skill  and  tact.  She 
might  sing  with  resistless  pathos,  and  argue  and 
plead  with  Paul's  logic  and  eloquence.  His  nature 
might  be  stirred  for  a  moment  as  a  stagnant  pool 
is  agitated  by  the  winds  of  heaven,  and,  like  the 
pool,  he  would  soon  settle  back  into  his  old  apathy. 
But  if  she  could  be  made  to  show  weakness,  to 
stumble  and  fall,  it  would  confirm  him  in  his  belief 
that  goodness,  if  it  really  existed,  was  accidental ; 
tnat  those  whose  lives  were  apparently  free  from 
stain  deserved  no  credit,  because  untempted  ;  and 
that  those  who  fell  should  be  pitied  rather  than 
blamed,  since  they  were  unfortunate  rather  than 
guilty.  Anything  that  would  quiet  and  satisfy  his 
conscience  in  its  stern  arraignment  of  his  evil  life 
would  be  welcome.  The  more  he  saw  of  Miss  Wal 
ton  the  more  he  felt  that  she  would  be  a  fair  subject 
upon  whom  to  test  his  favorite  theory.  Therefore, 
by  the  time  one  of  the  brethren  present  had  finished 
his  homely  exhortation  he  was  wholly  bent  upon 
carrying  out  his  plan. 

But  Miss  Walton  sat  near,  as  innocently  oblivious 
of  this  plot  against  her  as  Eve  of  the  serpent's  guile 
before  the  tempter  and  temptation  came  into  fatal 
conjunction. 

What  thoughts  for  and  against  each  other  may 


A  DRINKING-SONG  AT  A  PR  A  YER-MEE  TING.     1 2 1 

dwell  utterly  hidden  and  unknown  in  the  hearts  of 
those  so  near  that  their  hands  may  touch !  Con 
spiracies  to  compass  the  death  that  is  remediless 
may  lurk  just  behind  eyes  that  smile  upon  us.  Of 
course  Gregory  desired  no  such  fatal  result  to  follow 
his  little  experiment.  Few  who  for  their  own 
pleasure,  profit,  or  caprice  tempt  others  wish  the  evil 
to  work  on  to  the  bitter  end.  They  merely  want  a 
sufficient  letting  down  of  principle  and  virtue  for  the 
accomplishment  of  their  purpose,  and  then  would 
prefer  that  the  downward  tendency  should  cease  or 
be  reversed.  The  merchant  who  requires  dishonor 
able  practices  of  his  clerk  wishes  him  to  stop  at  a 
point  which,  in  the  world's  estimation,  is  safe.  And 
those  who,  like  Gregory,  would  take  the  bloom  from 
woman's  purity  and  holiness  in  thought  and  action, 
that  they  may  enjoy  a  questionable  flirtation,  would 
be  horrified  to  see  that  woman  drop  into  the  foul 
gulf  of  vice.  With  the  blind  egotism  of  selfishness, 
they  wish  merely  to  gratify  their  present  inclina 
tions,  ignoring  the  consequences.  They  are  like 
children  who  think  it  would  be  sport  to  see  a  little 
cataract  falling  over  a  Holland  dike.  Therefore, 
when  the  tide  is  in  they  open  a  small  channel,  but 
are  soon  aghast  to  find  that  the  deep  sea  is  over 
whelming  the  land. 

Gregory,  as  is  usual  with  his  kind,  thought  only 
of  his  own  desires.  When  he  had  accomplished  these 
Miss  Walton  must  take  care  of  herself.  When  from 
seeming  a  sweet,  pure  woman  she  had,  by  a  little 
temptation,  proved  to  be  capable  of  becoming  a  vain 


122  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

flirt,  he  would  go  back  to  business  and  dismiss  her 
from  his  thoughts  with  the  grim  chuckle,  "  She  is  like 
the  rest  of  us." 

And  thus  Annie  was  destined  to  meet  her  mother 
Eve's  experience ;  and  with  the  energy  and  prompt 
ness  of  evil  Gregory  was  keenly  on  the  alert  for  any 
thing  to  further  his  purpose. 

It  would  seem  that  the  satanic  ally  in  such  schemes 
does  not  permit  opportunity  to  be  wanting  long. 
The  leader  of  the  meeting  again  selected  a  hymn, 
but  of  a  peculiar  metre.  He  read  only  two  lines, 
and  then  looked  expectantly  toward  Annie,  who 
could  not  at  the  moment  think  of  a  tune  that  would 
answer ;  and  while  with  knit  brows  she  was  bending 
over  her  book,  to  her  unbounded  surprise  she  heard 
the  hymn  started  by  a  clear,  mellow  tenor  voice. 
Looking  up  she  saw  Gregory  singing  as  gravely  as  a 
deacon.  She  was  sufficiently  a  musician  to  know 
that  the  air  did  not  belong  to  sacred  music,  though 
she  had  never  heard  it  before. 

In  his  watchfulness  he  had  noted  her  hesitation, 
and  glancing  at  the  metre  saw  instantly  that  the 
measure  of  a  drinking-song  he  knew  well  would  fit 
the  words.  This  fell  out  better  than  he  had  hoped, 
and  with  the  thought,  "  I  will  jostle  her  out  of  her 
dignity  now,"  he  began  singing  without  any  embar 
rassment,  though  every  eye  was  upon  him.  He  had 
been  out  in  the  world  long  enough  for  that. 

As  Annie  turned  with  a  shocked  and  half-fright 
ened  expression  toward  him  his  eyes  met  hers  with  a 
sudden  gleam  of  drollery  which  was  irresistible,  and 


A  DRINKING-  SONG  AT  A  PR  A  YER-MEE  TING.     1 2  3 

he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her  drop  her  head 
to  conceal  a  smile.  But  he  noticed,  a  moment 
later,  that  her  face  became  grave  with  disappro 
bation. 

Having  sung  a  stanza  he  looked  around  with  an 
injured  air,  as  if  reproaching  the  others  for  not 
joining  in  with  him. 

"  The  tune  is  not  exactly  familiar  to  us,"  said  the 
good  man  leading  the  meeting, "  but  if  the  brother 
will  continue  singing  we  will  soon  catch  the  air ;  or 
perhaps  the  brother  or  some  one  else  (with  a  glance 
at  Annie)  will  start  one  better  known." 

Gregory  deliberately  turned  over  the  leaves,  and 
to  the  tune  of  Old  Hundred  started  a  hymn  com 
mencing, 

"  Unveil  thy  bosom,  faithful  tomb, 
Take  this  new  treasure  to  thy  trust, 
And  give  these  sacred  relics  room 
To  slumber  in  the  silent  dust." 

Annie  had  a  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  and  the 
transition  from  what  he  had  been  singing,  to  the 
funereal  and  most  inappropriate  words  was,  almost 
too  much  for  her.  To  her  impotent  anger  and  self- 
disgust  she  felt  an  hysterical  desire  to  laugh,  and  only 
controlled  herself  by  keeping  her  head  down  and 
her  lips  firmly  pressed  together  during  the  remainder 
of  the  brief  service. 

Even  ethers  who  did  not  know  Gregory  could  not 
prevent  a  broad  smile  at  the  incongruous  hymn 
he  had  chosen,  but  they  unitedly  wailed  it  through, 
for  he  persisted  in  singing  it  all  in  the  most 


124  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

dirge-like  manner.  They  gave  him  credit  for  doing 
the  best  he  could,  and  supposed  his  unhappy 
choice  resulted  from  haste  and  embarrassment.  In 
the  spontaneity  of  social  meetings  people  become 
accustomed  to  much  that  is  not  harmonious. 

Mr.  Walton  was  puzzled.  His  guest  was  certainly 
appearing  in  an  unexpected  rdle,  and  he  feared  that 
all  was  not  right. 

After  the  meeting  the  brethren  gathered  round 
Gregory  and  thanked  him  for  his  assistance,  and  he 
shook  hands  with  them  and  the  elderly  ladies  present 
with  the  manner  of  one  who  might  have  been  a 
"  pillar  in  the  temple."  Many  of  them  remembered 
his  father  and  mother  and  supposed  their  mantle 
had  fallen  on  him. 

An  ancient  "  mother  in  Israel  "  thanked  him  that 
he  had  "started  a  tune  that  they  all  could  sing, 
instead  of  the  new-fangled  ones  the  young  people 
are  always  getting  up  nowadays.  But,"  said  she, 
"  I  wish  you  could  learn  us  that  pretty  one  you  first 
sang,  for  it  took  my  fancy  amazingly.  I  think  I 
must  have  heard  it  before  somewhere." 

Gregory  gave  Annie  another  of  his  suggestive 
glances,  that  sent  her  out  hastily  into  the  darkness, 
and  a  moment  later  he  joined  her  at  the  carriage 
steps. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

FOILED   IN   ONE   DIRECTION. 

GREGORY  lifted  Miss  Walton  very  tenderly  into 
VJ  the  carriage  and  took  his  place  by  her  side, 
while  her  father  was  detained  by  some  little  matter 
of  business. 

"  I  am  not  an  invalid,"  said  Annie,  rather  curtly. 

"  Indeed  you  are  not,  Miss  Walton  ;  from  youf 
superabundance  you  are  even  giving  life  to  me." 

"  I  thought  from  your  manner  you  feared  I  was 
about  to  faint,"  she  answered,  dryly. 

Mr.  Walton  joined  them  and  they  started  home 
ward. 

"  Come,  Miss  Annie,"  said  Gregory  (addressing 
her  thus  for  the  first  time);  "  why  so  distant  ?  WTas 
I  not  called  a  brother  in  the  meeting  ?  If  I  am  a 
brother  you  are  a  sister.  I  told  you  I  would  secure 
this  relationship." 

She  did  not  answer  him. 

"  I  think  it  was  too  bad,"  he  continued,  "  that  you 
did  not  second  my  efforts  better.  You  would  not 
help  me  sing  either  of  the  tunes  I  started." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  Annie,  emphatically,  "  I  will 
never  go  to  a  prayer-meeting  with  you  again." 


126  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  What  a  rash  resolve !  But  I  confess  that  I  pre 
ferred  to  have  you  stay  at  home  with  me." 

"  You  have  spoiled  the  whole  evening  for  me." 

"And  you  spoiled  mine.  So  we  are  quits,"  he 
replied,  laughingly. 

"  No,  we  are  not.  How  can  you  turn  sacred 
things  into  a  jest?" 

"  I  was  possessed  to  see  a  smile  light  up  the 
awful  gravity  of  your  face,  and  I  feel  amply  repaid 
in  that  I  succeeded.  It  was  a  delicious  bit  of  sun 
shine  on  a  cloudy  day." 

"  And  I  am  provoked  at  myself  beyond  measure, 
that  I  could  have  laughed  like  a  silly  child." 

"  But  did  you  not  like  the  first  tune  I  sang  ?  <  Old 
Hundred  '  was  selected  in  deference  to  the  wishes 
of  the  meeting." 

"  No,  I  did  not  like  it.  It  was  not  suitable  to  the 
place  and  words.  Though  I  never  heard  it  before, 
its  somewhat  slow  movement  did  not  prevent  it 
from  smacking  of  something  very  foreign  to  a 
prayer-meeting." 

"  A  most  happy  and  inspired  expression.  Many 
a  time  I  have  smacked  my  lips  when  it  was  being 
sung  over  the  best  of  wine." 

"  Was  it  a  drinking-song,  then  ? "  she  asked, 
quickly. 

"What  will  you  do  with  me  if  I  say  it  was?" 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  I  would  not  have  thought  this 
even  of  you." 

"  Even  of  me !  That  is  complimentary.  I  now 
learn  what  a  low  estimate  you  have  of  me.  But  see 


FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION.  127 

how  unjust  you  are.  The  musical  commissaries  of 
the  church  militant  are  ever  saying, '  It's  a  pity  the 
devil  should  have  all  the  good  music,'  and  so  half 
the  Sunday-school  tunes,  and  many  sung  in  churches, 
have  had  a  lower  origin  than  my  drinking-song.  I 
assure  you  that  the  words  are  as  fine  as  the  air. 
Why  have  I  not  as  good  a  right  to  steal  a  tune  from 
the  devil  as  the  rest  of  them  ?  " 

"  It's  the  motive  that  makes  all  the  difference/' 
said  Annie.  "  But  I  fear  that  in  this  case  the  devil 
suffered  no  loss." 

"I'm  sure  my  motive  was  not  bad.  I  only  wished 
to  see  a  bonny  smile  light  up  your  face." 

Before  she  could  reply  the  carriage  stopped  at 
Mr.  Walton's  door,  and  with  Mr.  Gregory  she 
passed  into  the  cosey  parlor.  Her  father  did  not 
immediately  join  them. 

As  Gregory  looked  at  her  while  she  took  off  her 
wraps,  he  thought, "  By  Jove !  she's  handsome  if  she 
is  not  pretty." 

In  fact  Annie's  face  at  that  time  would  have  at 
tracted  attention  anywhere.  The  crisp  air  had  given 
her  a  fine  color.  Her  eyes  glowed  with  suppressed 
excitement  and  anger,  while  the  firm  lines  about  the 
mouth  indicated  that  when  she  spoke  it  would  be 
decidedly.  In  spite  of  herself  the  audacity,  clever 
ness,  and  wickedness  of  this  stranger  had  affected 
her  greatly.  As  he  threw  off  his  moodiness,  as  he 
revealed  himself  by  word  and  action,  she  saw  that  he 
was  no  ordinary  character,  but  a  thorough  man  of 
the  world,  and  with  some  strange  caprices.  The; 


128  OPENING  A  CHE STNUT  B  URR. 

suspicion  crossed  her  mind  that  he  might  be  not 
only  in  peril  himself  but  also  a  source  of  danger. 
She  had  determined  during  the  ride  home  that  even 
though  he  meant  no  slur  upon  sacred  things  he 
should  carry  his  mocking  spirit  no  more  into  them. 
Therefore,  after  a  moment's  thought,  she  turned  to 
ward  him  with  a  manner  of  mingled  frankness  and 
dignity,  and  said,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  I  regret  what  has 
occurred  this  evening.  I  have  a  painful  sense  of  the 
ludicrous,  and  you  have  taken  unfair  advantage  of  it 
I  am  usually  better  and  happier  for  going  to  our 
simple  little  meeting,  but  now  I  can  think  of  the 
whole  hour  only  with  pain.  I  think  I  am  as  mirth- 
loving  as  the  majority  of  my  age,  and  perhaps  more 
so.  I  say  truly  that  my  heart  is  very  light  and 
happy.  But,  Mr.  Gregory,  we  look  at  certain  things 
very  differently  from  you.  While  I  would  not  for  a 
moment  have  you  think  that  religion  brings  into  my 
life  gloom  and  restraint, — quite  the  reverse, — still  it 
gives  me  great  pain  when  anything  connected  with 
my  faith  is  made  a  matter  of  jest.  These  things  are 
sacred  to  us,  and  I  know  my  father  would  feel 
deeply  grieved  if  he  understood  you  this  evening. 
Do  you  not  see?  It  appears  to  us  differently  from 
what  it  does  to  you  and  perhaps  to  the  world  at 
large.  These  things  are  to  us  what  your  mother's 
memory  is  to  you.  I  would  sooner  cut  off  my  right 
hand  than  trifle  with  that." 

Gregory  had  been  able  to  maintain  his  quizzical 
look  of  mischief  till  she  named  his  mother ;  then  his 
vice  changed  instantly.  A  flush  of  shame  crossed  it, 


FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION.  129 

and  after  a  moment,  with  an  expression  something 
like  true  manhood,  he  stepped  forward  and  took 
Annie's  hand,  saying,  "  Miss  Walton,  I  sincerely  ask 
your  pardon.  I  did  not  know — I  could  not  believe 
that  you  felt  as  you  do.  I  will  give  you  no  further 
reason  to  complain  of  me  on  this  ground.  I  hope 
you  will  forgive  me." 

She  at  once  relented,  and  said : 

"  '  Who  by  repentance  is  not  satisfied 
Is  not  of  heaven  nor  earth.' 

There  is  an  apt  quotation  from  your  favorite  Shake 
speare." 

"  You  seem  a  delightful  mixture  of  both,  Miss 
VJalton." 

"  If  you  were  a  better  judge,  sir,  you  would  know 
that  the  earthly  ingredient  is  too  great.  But  that  is 
in  your  favor,  for  I  am  sufficiently  human  to  make 
allowance  for  human  folly." 

"  I  shall  tax  your  charity  to  the  utmost." 

As  Gregory  sat  in  his  arm-chair  recalling  the  events 
of  the  day  before  retiring,  he  thought :  "  Well,  my 
attempt  has  failed  signally.  While  by  her  involun 
tary  smile  she  showed  that  she  was  human,  she  has 
also  managed  this  evening  to  prove  that  she  is  per 
fectly  sincere  in  her  religion,  and  to  render  it  im 
possible  for  me  to  assail  her  in  that  direction  again. 
As  the  old  hymn  goes,  I  must  Met  her  religious  hours 
alone/  But  how  far  her  religion  or  superstition  will 
control  her  action  is  another  question.  I  have 
learned  both  at  home  and  abroad  that  people  can  be 
very  religious  and  very  sincere  in  matters  of  faith 


130  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  ceremony,  and  jealous  of  any  hand  stretched 
out  to  touch  their  sacred  ark,  but  when  through 
with  the  holy  business  they  can  live  the  life  of 
very  ordinary  mortals.  This  may  be  true  of  Miss 
Walton.  At  any  rate  I  have  made  a  mistake  in 
showing  my  hand  somewhat  at  a  prayer-meeting, 
for  women  are  so  tenacious  on  religious  matters. 
Deference,  personal  attention,  and  compliments, — 
these  are  the  irresistible  weapons.  These  inflate 
pride  and  vanity  to  such  a  degree  that  a  miser 
able  collapse  is  necessary.  And  yet  I  must  be 
careful,  for  she  is  not  like  some  belles  I  know, 
who  have  the  swallow  of  a  whale  for  flattery. 
She  is  too  intelligent,  too  refined,  to  take  compli 
ments  as  large  and  glaring  as  a  sunflower.  Some 
thing  in  the  way  of  a  moss-rose  bud  will  accom 
plish  more.  I  will  appear  as  if  falling  under  her 
power  ;  as  if  bewitched  by  her  charms.  Nothing 
pleases  your  plain  girls  more  than  to  be  thought 
beautiful.  I  shall  have  her  head  turned  in  a  week. 
I  am  more  bent  than  ever  on  teaching  this  little 
Puritan  that  she  and  I  live  upon  the  same  level." 

Saturday  morning  dawned  clear  and  bracing,  and 
the  grass  was  white  with  hoar  frost.  The  children 
came  in  to  breakfast  with  glowing  cheeks  and  hair 
awry,  crying  excitedly  in  the  same  breath  that  they 
"  had  been  to  the  chestnut  trees  and  that  Jack  haa 
opened  the  burrs  all  night." 

In  answer  to  their  clamorous  petitions  a  one- 
o'clock  dinner  was  promised,  and  Aunt  Annie  was 
to  accompany  them  on  a  nutting  expedition  with 
Jeff  as  pioneer  to  thresh  and  club  the  trees. 


FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION.  131 

"Can  I  go  too?"  Gregory  asked  of   the  children. 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Johnny,  rather  coldly;  "  if 
Aunt  Annie  is  willing." 

"You  can  go  with  me,"  said  kind-hearted  little 
Susie, 

"  Now  I  can  go  whether  Aunt  Annie  is  willing  or 
not,"  said  Gregory,  with  mock  defiance  at  the  boy. 

He  glanced  at  his  aunt's  face  to  gather  how  he 
should  take  this,  but  she  settled  the  matter  satis 
factorily  to  him  by  saying,  "You  shall  be  my  beau, 
and  Mr.  Gregory  will  be  Susie's." 

"Good,  good!"  exclaimed  Susie.  "I've  got  a 
beau  already ; "  and  she  beamed  upon  Gregory  in  a 
way  that  made  them  all  laugh. 

"  '  Coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before,'  you 
perceive,  Miss  Walton,"  said  he,  meaningly. 

"  Sometimes  the  events  themselves  are  but 
shadows,"  she  replied,  dryly. 

"  Now  that  is  severe  upon  the  beaux.  How  about 
the  belles  ?  "  he  asked,  quickly. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  my  own   sex,  sir." 

"  That  is  not  fair.  Of  course  I  can  say  nothing 
adverse." 

"  If  you  should  say  what  you  think,  I  fear  we 
should  be  little  inclined  to  cry  with  Shylock, 'A 
Daniel  come  to  judgment ! '  ' 

"  You  have  a  dreadful  opinion  of  me,  Miss  Wal 
ton.  I  wish  you  would  teach  me  how  I  can  change 
it." 

"You  discovered  so  much  in  a  chestnut  burr 
the  day  you  came  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  you 


.32  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

could  find  anything  else  there  that  you  wish  to 
know." 

"  I  shall  not  look  in  burrs  for  chestnuts  this  after, 
noon,  but  for  something  else  far  more  important." 

Gregory  spent  the  forenoon  quietly  in  his  own 
room  reading,  in  order  that  he  might  have  all  the 
vigor  possible  for  the  ramble.  And  to  Annie,  as 
housekeeper,  Saturday  morning  brought  many 
duties. 

By  two  o'clock  the  nutting  expedition  was  organ 
ized,  and  with  Jeff  in  advance,  carrying  a  short 
ladder  and  a  long  limber  pole,  the  party  started  for 
the  hills.  At  first  Johnny,  oppressed  with  his 
dignity  as  Aunt  Annie's  "  beau,"  stalked  soberly  at 
her  side,  and  Susie  also  claimed  Gregory  according 
to  agreement,  and  insisted  on  keeping  hold  of  his 
hand. 

He  submitted  with  such  grace  as  he  could  muster, 
for  children  were  tiresome  to  him,  and  he  wanted  to 
talk  to  Miss  Walton,  without  "  little  pitchers  with 
large  ears  "  around. 

Annie  smiled  to  herself  at  his  half-concealed 
annoyance  and  his  wooden  gallantry  to  Susie,  but 
she  understood  child  life  well  enough  to  know  that 
the  present  arrangement  would  not  last  very  long. 
And  she  was  right.  They  had  hardly  entered  the 
shady  lane  leading  to  the  trees  before  a  chipmonk. 
with  its  shrill  note  of  exclamation  at  unexpected 
company,  started  out  from  some  leaves  near  and  ran 
for  its  hole. 

Away  went  Aunt  Annie's  beau  after  it,  and  Susie 


FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION.  133 

also,  quite  oblivious  of  her  first  possession  in  that 
line,  joined  in  the  pursuit.  There  was  an  excited 
consultation  above  the  squirrel's  retreat,  and  then 
Johnny  took  out  his  knife  and  cut  a  flexible  rod 
with  which  to  investigate  the  "  robber's  den." 

Gregory  at  once  joined  Annie,  saying,  "  Since  the 
beau  of  your  choice  has  deserted  you,  will  you 
accept  of  another?  " 

"  Yes,  till  he  proves  alike  inconstant." 

"  I  will  see  to  that.     A  burr  shall  be  my  emblem." 

"Or  I  do,"  she  added,  laughing. 

"  Now  the  future  is  beyond  my  power." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  anyway.  Johnny  was  bent  upon 
being  a  true  knight.  You  may  see  something  that 
will  be  to  you  what  the  chipmonk  was  to  him." 

"And  such  is  your  opinion  of  man's  constancy? 
Miss  Walton,  you  are  more  of  a  cynic  than  I  am." 

"  Indeed !  Do  women  dwell  in  your  fancy  as 
fixed  stars?" 

"  Fixed  stars  are  all  suns,  are  they  not  ?  I  know 
of  one  with  wonderful  powers  of  attraction,"  said  he, 
with  a  significant  glance. 

"  Does  she  live  in  New  York  ? "  quietly  asked 
Annie. 

"  You  know  well  she  does  not.  She  is  a  votaress 
of  nature,  and,  as  I  said,  I  shall  search  in  every 
burr  for  the  hidden  clew  to  her  favor." 

"You  had  better  look  for  chestnuts,  sir." 

"  Chestnuts !  Fit  food  for  children  and  chip- 
monks.  I  am  in  quest  of  the  only  manna  that  ever 
fell  from  heaven.  Have  you  read  Longfellow's 
•Golden  Legend,'  Miss  Walton?" 


134  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  with  a  slight  contraction  of  the 
brow  as  if  the  suggestion  were  not  pleasing. 

The  children  now  came  running  toward  them  and 
wished  to  resume  their  old  places.  "  No,  sir,"  said 
Walter,  decisively.  "  You  deserted  your  lady's  side 
and  your  place  is  rilled  ;  and  Susie, — 

'  Thou  fair,  false  one," 

— you  renounced  me  for  a  chipmonk.  My  wounded 
heart  has  found  solace  in  another." 

Johnny  received  this  charge  against  his  gallantry 
with  a  red  face  and  eyes  that  began  to  dilate  with 
anger,  while  Susielooked  at  Gregory  poutingly  and 
said,  "  I  don't  like  big  beaux.  I  think  chipmonks 
are  ever  so  much  nicer." 

The  laugh  that  followed  broke  the  force  of  the 
storm  that  was  brewing ;  and  Annie,  by  saying,"  See, 
children,  Jeff  is  climbing  the  tree  on  top  of  the  hill ; 
I  wonder  who  will  get  the  first  nuts,"  caused  the 
wind  to  veer  round  from  the  threatening  quarter, 
and  away  they  scampered  with  grievances  all  for 
gotten. 

"  If  grown-up  children  could  only  forget  their 
troubles  as  easily !  "  sighed  Gregory.  "  Miss  Walton, 
you  are  gifted  with  admirable  tact.  Your  witchery 
has  cleared  up  another  storm." 

"  They  have  not  forgotten,"  said  Annie,  ignoring 
the  compliment, — "  they  have  only  been  diverted 
from  their  trouble.  Children  can  do  by  nature  what 
we  should  from  intelligent  choice, — turn  away  the 
mind  from  painful  subjects  to  those  that  are  pleas- 


FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION.  135 

ing.  You  don't  catch  me  brooding  over  trouble 
when  there  are  a  thousand  pleasant  things  to  think 
of." 

"  That  is  easier  said  than  done,  Miss  Walton.  I 
read  on  your  smooth  brow  that  you  have  had  fe-vi 
serious  troubles,  and,  as  you  say,  '  you  have  a  thou 
sand  pleasant  things  to  think  of/  But  with  others  it 
may  be  very  different.  Some  troubles  have  a  terrible 
magnetism  that  draws  the  mind  back  to  them  as  if 
by  a  malign  spell,  and  there  are  no  '  pleasant  things 
to  think  of.' " 

"  No  '  pleasant  things '  ?  Why,  Mr.  Gregory ! 
The  universe  is  very  wide." 

"  Present  company  excepted,"  replied  he  gal 
lantly.  "  But  what  do  I  care  for  the  universe?  As 
you  say,  it  is  *  very  wide ' — a  big,  uncomfortable 
place,  in  which  one  is  afraid  of  getting  lost." 

"  I  am  not,"  said  Annie,  gently. 

"  How  so  ?  " 

"  It's  all  my  Father's  house.  I  am  never  for  a 
moment  lost  sight  of.  Wherever  I  am,  I  am  like  a 
little  child  playing  outside  the  door  while  its  mother, 
unseen,  is  watching  it  from  the  window." 

He  looked  at  her  keenly  to  see  if  she  were  per 
fectly  sincere.  Her  face  had  the  expression  of  a 
child,  and  the  thought  flashed  across  him,  "  If  she  is 
so  watched  and  guarded,  how  vain  are  my  attempts ! " 

But  he  only  said  with  a  shrug, "  It  would  be  a  pity  to 
dissipate  your  happy  superstition,  Miss  Walton,  but 
after  what  I  have  seen  and  experienced  in  the  world 
it  would  seem  more  generally  true  that  the  mother 


136  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

forgot  her  charge,  left  the  window,  and  the  child  was 
run  over  by  the  butcher's  cart." 

"  Do  you  think  it  vain  confidence,"  said  Annie, 
earnestly,  '<  when  I  say  that  you  could  not  dissipate 
what  you  term  my  '  superstition/  any  more  than  you 
could  argue  me  out  of  my  belief  in  my  good  old 
father's  love?" 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS. 

THE  conversation  had  taken  a  turn  that  Gregory 
wished  to  avoid,  so  he  said  :  "  Miss  Walton, 
you  regard  me  as  wretched  authority  on  theology, 
and  therefore  my  opinions  will  go  for  nothing.  Sup 
pose  we  join  the  children  on  the  hill,  for  I  am  most 
anxious  to  commence  the  search  for  the  clew  to  your 
favor.  Give  me  your  hand,  that  as  your  attendant 
I  may  at  least  appear  to  assist  you  in  climbing, 
though  I  suppose  you  justly  think  you  could  help 
me  more  than  I  can  you." 

"  And  if  I  can,  why  should  I  not  ?  "  asked  Annie, 
kindly. 

"Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  I  would  crawl  up  first. 
But  thanks  to  your  reviving  influences,  I  am  not 
so  far  gone  as  that." 

"  Then  you  would  not  permit  a  woman  to  reach 
out  a  helping  hand  to  you?  Talk  not  against  Turks 
and  Arabs.  How  do  Christian  men  regard  us  ?  " 

"  But  you  look  upon  me  as  a  l  heathen/  " 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  I  do  not." 

"  Miss  Walton,  give  your  honest  opinion  of  me^  ^ 
just  what  you  think." 


138  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"Will  you  do  the  same  of  me?  " 

"Oh,  certainly!" 

"  No,  do  not  answer  in  that  tone.  On  your 
honor." 

Gregory  was  now  caught.  If  he  agreed  he  must 
state  his  doubts  of  her  real  goodness;  his  low  esti 
mate  of  women  in  general  which  led  to  his  purpose 
to  tempt  her.  This  would  not  only  arm  her  against 
his  efforts,  but  place  him  in  a  very  unpleasant  light. 

'•'I  beat  a  retreat,  Miss  Walton.  I  am  satisfied 
that  your  opinion  would  discourage  me  utterly." 

"  You  need  have  no  fears  of  that  kind,"  she  said  ; 
"although  my  opinion  would  not  be  flattering  it 
would  be  most  encouraging." 

"  No,  Miss  Walton,  I  am  not  to  be  caught.  My 
every  glance  and  word  reveal  my  opinion  of  you, 
while  yours  of  me  amounts  to  what  I  used  to  hear 
years  ago :  '  You  are  a  bad  boy  now,  but  may 
become  a  good  one.'  Come,  give  me  your  hand." 

As  she  complied  she  gave  him  a  quick,  keen  look. 
Her  intuition  told  her  of  something  hidden,  and  he 
puzzled  her. 

Her  hand  was  ungloved,  and  he  thought,  "  When 
have  I  clasped  such  a  hand  before  ?  It  could  help  a 
Hercules.  At  any  rate  he  would  like  to  hold  it,  for 
it  is  alive." 

There  is  as  much  diversity  of  character  in  hands 
/as  in  faces.  Some  are  very  white  and  shapely,  and 
a  diamond  flashes  prettily  upon  them,  but  having 
said  this  you  have  said  all.  Others  suggest  honest 
work  and  plenty  of  it,  and  for  such  the  sensible  will 


INTERPRE  TING  CHESTNUT  B  URRS.  139 

ever  have  a  genuine  respect.  There  are  some  hands 
that  make  you  think  of  creatures  whose  blood  is 
cold.  A  lady's  hand  in  society  often  suggests  feeble 
ness,  lack  of  vitality.  It  is  a  thing  to  touch  deco 
rously,  and  if  feeling  betray  you  into  giving  a  hearty 
grasp  and  pressure,  you  find  that  you  are  only  caus 
ing  pain  and  reducing  the  member  to  a  confused 
jumble  of  bones  and  sinews.  There  are  hands  that 
suggest  fancy-work,  light  crochet  needles,  and  neu 
ralgia. 

Annie's  hand  was  not  one  that  a  sculptor  would 
care  to  copy,  though  he  w^uld  find  no  great  fault 
with  it ;  but  a  sculptor  would  certainly  take  pleasure 
in  shaking  hands  with  her, — the  pleasure  that  is  the 
opposite  of  our  shrinking  from  taking  the  hand  of 
the  dead.  It  was  soft  and  delicate  to  the  pressure, 
and  yet  firm.  It  reminded  one  of  silk  drawn  over 
steel,  and  was  all  electric  and  throbbing  with  life. 
You  felt  that  it  could  give  you  the  true  grasp  of 
friendship, — that  it  had  power  to  do  more  than 
barely  cling  to  something, — that  it  could  both  help 
and  sustain,  yet  its  touch  would  be  gentleness  itself 
beside  the  couch  of  suffering. 

When  they  had  reached  the  brow  of  the  hill  he 
was  much  more  exhausted  than  she,  and  sat  down 
panting. 

"  Miss  Walton,"  he  asked,  "do  you  not  despise  a 
feeble  man  ?  " 

"  What  kind  of  feebleness  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  The  weakness  that  makes  me  sit  pale  and  pant- 
ing  here,  while  you  stand  there  glowing  with  life  and 
vigor,  a  veritable  Hebe." 


140  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  All  your  compliments  cannot  balance  that  impu 
tation  against  me.  Such  weakness  awakens  my  pity, 
sympathy,  and  wish  to  help." 

"  Ah  !  the  emotions  you  would  bestow  on  a  beg 
gar, — very  agreeable  to  a  man.  Well,  what  kind  of 
feebleness  do  you  despise?" 

"  I  think  I  should  despise  a  feeble,  vacillating 
Hercules  most  of  all, — a  burly,  assuming  sort  of 
person,  who  could  be  made  a  tool  of,  and  led  to  do 
what  he  knew  to  be  mean  and  wrong." 

"  You  must  despise  a  great  many  people  then." 

"  No,  I  do  not.  Honestly,  Mr.  Gregory,  I  have 
no  right  to  despise  any  one.  I  was  only  giving  the 
reverse  of  my  ideal  man.  But  I  assure  you  I  share 
too  deeply  in  humanity's  faults  to  be  very  critical." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear,  Miss  Walton,  that  you 
share  in  our  fallen  humanity,  for  I  was  beginning  to 
doubt  it,  and  you  can  well  understand  that  I  should 
be  dreadfully  uncomfortable  in  the  presence  of  per 
fection." 

"  If  you  could  escape  all  other  sources  of  discom 
fort  as  surely  as  this  one,  you  would  be  most  happy," 
replied  Annie,  with  heightened  color.  "  I  shall 
ever  think  you  are  satirical  when  you  speak  in  such 
style." 

"A  truce,  Miss  Walton;  only,  in  mercy  to  my 
poor  mortality,  be  as  human  as  you  can.  Though 
you  seem  to  suspect  me  of  a  low  estimate  of  your 
sex,  I  much  prefer  women  to  saints  and  Madonnas. 
I  am  going  to  look  for  the  burr." 

This  was  adroitness  itself  ©n  the  part  of  Gregory, 


INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS.  141 

for,  of  all  things,  sensible  Annie,  conscious  of  faults 
and  many  struggles,  did  not  wish  to  give  the  impres 
sion  that  she  thought  herself  approaching  perfection. 
And  yet  he  had  managed  to  make  her  sensitive  on 
that  point,  and  given  her  a  strong  motive  to  relax 
strict  rules  of  duty,  and  act  "  like  other  people/'  as 
he  would  say. 

Jeff's  limber  pole  was  now  doing  effective  service. 
With  many  a  soft  thud  upon  the  sward  and  leaves 
the  burrs  rained  around,  while  the  detached  chest 
nuts  rattled  down  like  hail.  The  children  were 
careering  about  this  little  tempest  of  Jeff's  manufac 
ture  in  a  state  of  wild  glee,  dodging  the  random 
burrs,  and  snatching  what  nuts  they  could  in  safety 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  prickly  shower.  At  last  the 
tree  was  well  thrashed,  and  had  the  appearance  of  a 
school-boy  bully  who,  after  bristling  with  threats 
and  boasts  for  a  long  time,  suddenly  meets  his 
master  and  is  left  in  a  very  meek  and  plucked 
condition. 

But  the  moment  Jeff's  pole  ceased  its  sturdy 
strokes  there  was  a  rush  for  the  spoils,  the  children 
awakening  the  echoes  with  their  exclamations  of 
delight  as  they  found  the  ground  covered  with  what 
was  more  precious  to  them  than  gold.  Even  Greg 
ory's  sluggish  pulses  tingled  and  quickened  at  the 
well-remembered  scene,  and  he  felt  a  little  of  their 
excitement.  For  the  moment  he  determined  to  be 
a  boy  again,  and  running  into  the  charmed  circle, 
picked  away  as  fast  as  any  of  them  till  his  physical 
weakness  painfully  reminded  him  that  his  old  tireless 
activity  had  passed  away,  perhaps  forever. 


142  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

He  leaned  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree  and  noted 
with  something  of  an  artist's  eye  the  pretty  picture. 
The  valley  beneath  was  beginning  to  glow  with  the 
richest  October  tints,  in  the  midst  of  which  was  his 
old  home,  that  to  his  affection  seemed  like  a  gem  set 
in  gold,  ruby,  and  emerald.  The  stream  appeared 
white  and  silvery  as  seen  through  openings  of  the 
bordering  trees,  and  in  the  distance  the  purple  haze 
and  mountains  blended  together,  leaving  it  uncer 
tain  where  the  granite  began,  as  in  Gregory's  mind 
fact  and  fancy  were  confusedly  mingling  in  regard  to 
Miss  Walton. 

And  he  soon  turned  from  even  that  loved  and 
beautiful  landscape  to  her  as  an  object  of  piquant 
interest,  and  the  pleasure  of  analyzing  and  testing 
her  character,  and — well,  some  hidden  fascination  of 
her  own,  caused  a  faint  stir  of  excitement  at  his 
heart,  even  as  the  October  air  and  exercise  had  just 
tinged  his  pale  cheeks. 

But  Miss  Walton  reminded  him  of  a  young  sugar 
maple  that  he  had  noticed,  all  aflame,  from  his  win 
dow  that  morning,  so  rich  and  high  was  her  color, 
as,  still  intent  upon  the  thickly  scattered  nuts,  she 
followed  the  old  unspent  childish  impulse  to  gather 
now  as  she  had  done  when  of  Susie's  age.  With  a 
half-wondering  smile  Gregory  watched  her  intent 
expression,  so  like  that  of  the  other  children,  and 
thought,  "  Well,  she  is  the  freshest  and  most 
unhackneyed  girl  I  have  ever  met  for  one  who  knows 
so  much.  It  seems  true,  as  she  said,  that  she  draws 
her  life  from  nature  and  will  never  grow  old.  Now 


INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURR*.  143 

she  is  a  child  with  those  children,  looking  and  acting 
like  them.  A  moment  later  she  will  be  a  self-pos 
sessed  young  lady,  with  a  quick,  trained  intellect 
that  I  can  scarcely  cope  with.  And  yet  in  each  and 
every  character  she  seems  so  real  and  vital  that  even 
I,  in  spite  of  myself,  feel  compelled  to  admit  her 
truth.  Her  life  is  like  a  glad,  musical  mountain 
stream,  while  I  am  a  stagnant  pool  that  she  passes 
and  leaves  behind.  I  wonder  if  it  is  possible  for  one 
life  to  be  awakened  and  quickened  by  another.  I 
wonder  if  her  vital  force  would  be  strong  enough  to 
drag  another  on  who  had  almost  lost  the  power  to 
follow.  It  is  said  that  young  fresh  blood  can  be 
infused  directly  into  the  veins  of  the  old  and  feeble. 
Can  the  same  be  true  of  moral  forces,  and  a  glad 
zest  and  interest  in  life  be  breathed  into  the  jaded, 
cloyed,  ennui-cursed  spirit  of  one  who  regards  exist 
ence  with  dull  eye,  sluggish  pulse,  and  heart  of  lead  ? 
It  seems  to  me  that  if  any  one  could  have  such  power 
it  would  be  that  girl  there  with  her  intense  vitality 
and  subtle  connection  with  nature,  which,  as  she 
says,  is  ever  young  and  vigorous.  And  yet  I  pro 
pose  to  reveal  her  to  herself  as  a  weak,  vain  creature, 
whose  fair  seeming  like  a  pasteboard  castle  falls 
before  the  breath  of  flattery.  By  Jove,  I  half  hope 
I  shan't  succeed,  and  yet  to  satisfy  myself  I  shall 
carry  the  test  to  the  utmost  limit." 

In  her  absorbed  search  for  nuts,  Annie  had 
approached  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  was  stooping 
almost  at  Gregory's  feet  without  noticing  him. 
Suddenly  she  turned  up  a  burr  whose  appearance  so 


144  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

interested  her  that  she  stood  up  to  examine  it,  and 
then  became  conscious  of  his  intent  gaze. 

"  There  you  stand,"  she  said,  "  cool  and  superior, 
criticising  and  laughing  at  me  as  a  great  overgrown 
child." 

"  If  you  had  looked  more  closely  you  would  have 
seen  anything  rather  than  cool  criticism  in  my  face. 
I  wish  you  could  tell  me  your  secret,  Miss  Walton. 
What  is  your  hidden  connection  with  Nature,  that 
her  strong,  beautiful  life  flows  so  freely  into  yours  ?" 

"  You  would  not  believe  me  if  I  told  you." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  I  should  be  inclined  to 
believe  anything  you  told  me,  you  seem  so  real. 
But,  pardon  me,  you  have  in  your  hand  the  very 
burr  I  have  been  looking  vainly  for.  Perhaps  in  it  I 
may  find  the  coveted  clew  to  your  favor.  It  may 
winningly  suggest  to  you  my  meaning,  while  plain, 
bald  words  would  only  repel.  If  I  could  only  inter 
pret  Nature  as  you  breathe  her  spirit  I  might  find 
that  the  autumn  leaves  were  like  illuminated  pages, 
and  every  object — even  such  an  insignificant  one  as 
this  burr — an  inspired  illustration.  When  men  come 
to  read  Nature's  open  book,  publishers  may  despair. 
If  I  wished  to  tell  you  how  I  would  dwell  in  your 
thoughts,  what  poet  has  written  anything  equal  to 
this  half-open  burr?  It  portrays  our  past,  it  gives 
our  present  relations,  and  suggests  the  future ;  only, 
like  all  parables,  it  must  not  be  pressed  too  far,  and 
too  much  prominence  must  not  be  given  to  some 
mere  detail.  These  prickly  outward  pointing  spines 
represent  the  reserve  and  formality  which  keep  com- 


INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS.  145 

parative  strangers  apart.  But  now  the  burr  is  half- 
open,  revealing  its  heart  of  silk  and  down.  So  if 
one  could  get  past  the  barriers  which  you,  alike  with 
all,  turn  toward  an  indifferent  or  unfriendly  world,  a 
kindliness  would  be  found  that  would  surround  a 
cherished  friend  as  these  silken  sides  envelop  this 
sole  and  favored  chestnut.  Again,  note  that  the 
burr  is  half-open,  indicating,  I  hope,  the  progress  we 
have  made  toward  such  friendship.  I  have  no  true 
friend  in  the  wide  world  that  I  can  trust,  and  I  would 
like  to  believe  that  your  regard,  like  this  burr,  is 
opening  toward  me.  The  final  suggestion  that  I 
should  draw  may  seem  selfish,  and  yet  is  it  not 
natural?  This  chestnut  dwells  alone  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  burr.  We  do  not  like  to  share  a 
supreme  friendship.  There  are  some  in  whose 
esteem  we  would  be  first." 

When  Gregory  finished  he  was  half-frightened  at 
his  words,  for  in  developing  his  fanciful  parallel  in 
the  bold  style  of  gallantry  he  had  learned  to  employ 
toward  the  belles  of  the  ball-room,  and  from  a  cer 
tain  unaccountable  fascination  that  Annie  herself 
had  for  him,  he  had  said  more  than  he  meant. 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  he  thought,  "  if  she  should 
take  this  for  a  declaration  and  accept  me  on  the 
spot,  I  should  then  be  in  the  worst  scrape  of  my  sorry 
life." 

Miss  Walton's  manner  rather  puzzled  him.  Her 
heightened  color  and  quickened  breathing  were 
alarming,  while  the  contraction  of  her  brow  and  the 
firmness  of  her  lips,  together  with  an  intent  look  on 


S4$  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

the  chestnut  in  the  centre  of  the  burr,  rather  than  a 
languishing  look  at  him  or  at  nothing,  were  more 
assuring.  She  perplexed  him  still  more  when,  as 
her  only  response  to  all  this  sentiment,  she  asked, 
"  Mr.  Gregory,  will  you  lend  me  your  penknife  ?  " 

Without  a  word  he  handed  it  to  her,  and  she  at 
the  same  time  took  the  burr  from  his  hand,  and 
daintily  plucking  out  the  chestnut  tossed  the  burr 
rather  contemptuously  away.  "  Mr.  Gregory,  if  I 
understand  your  rather  far-fetched  and  forced  inter 
pretation  of  this  little  '  parable  of  nature,'  you  chose 
to  represent  yourself  by  this  great  lonely  chestnut 
occupying  the  space  where  three  might  have  grown. 
On  observing  this  emblematic  nut  closely  I  detect 
something  that  may  also  have  a  place  in  your 
1  parable  ' ;  "  and  she  pushed  aside  the  little  quirl  at 
the  small  end  of  the  nut,  which  partially  concealed 
a  worm-hole,  and  cutting  through  the  shell  showed 
the  destroyer  in  the  very  heart  of  the  kernel. 

There  was  nothing  far-fetched  in  this  suggestion 
of  nature,  and  he  saw — and  he  understood  that  Miss 
Walton  saw — evil  enthroned  in  the  very  depths  of 
his  soul.  The  revelation  of  the  hateful  truth  was  so 
sudden  and  sharp  that  his  face  darkened  with  invol 
untary  pain  and  anger.  It  seemed  to  him  that,  by 
the  simple  act  of  showing  him  the  worm-infested 
chestnut,  she  had  rejected  anything  approaching 
even  friendship,  and  had  also  given  him  a  good  but 
humiliating  reason  why.  He  lost  his  self-possession 
and  forgot  that  he  deserved  a  stinging  rebuke  for  his 
insincerity.  He  would  have  turned  away  in  cold- 


INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS.  147 

ness  and  resentment.  His  visit  might  have  come  to 
an  abrupt  termination,  had  not  Annie,  with  that 
delicate,  womanly  tact  which  was  one  of  her  most 
marked  characteristics,  interrupted  him  as  he  was 
about  to  say  something  to  the  effect,  "  Miss  Wal 
ton,  since  you  are  so  much  holier  than  I,  it  were 
better  that  I  should  contaminate  the  air  you  breathe 
no  longer." 

She  looked  into  his  clouded  face  with  an  open 
smile,  and  said,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  you  have  been  unfor 
tunate  in  the  choice  of  a  burr.  Now  let  me  choose 
for  you  ; "  and  she  began  looking  around  for  one 
suited  to  her  taste  and  purpose. 

This  gave  him  time  to  recover  himself  and  to 
realize  the  folly  of  quarrelling  or  showing  any  special 
feeling  in  the  matter.  After  a  moment  he  was  only 
desirous  of  some  pretext  for  laughing  it  off,  but  how 
to  manage  it  he  did  not  know,  and  was  inwardly 
cursing  himself  as  a  blundering  fool,  and  no  match 
for  this  child  of  nature. 

Annie  soon  came  toward  him,  saying,  "  Perhaps 
this  burr  will  suggest  better  meanings.  You  see  it 
is  wide  open.  That  means  perfect  frankness.  There 
are  three  chestnuts  here  instead  of  one.  We  must 
be  willing  to  share  the  regard  of  others.  One  of 
these  nuts  has  the  central  place.  As  we  come  to 
know  people  well,  we  usually  find  some  one  occupy 
ing  the  supreme  place  in  their  esteem,  and  though 
we  may  approach  closely  we  should  not  wish  to 
usurp  what  belongs  to  another.  Under  Jeff's  vigor 
ous  blows  the  burr  and  its  contents  have  had  a  tre« 


148  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

mendous  downfall,  but  they  have  not  parted  company. 
True  friends  should  stick  together  in  adversity. 
What  do  you  think  of  my  interpretation?  " 

"  I  think  you  are  a  witch,  beyond  doubt,  and  if 
you  had  lived  a  few  centuries  ago,  you  would  have 
been  sent  to  heaven  in  a  chariot  of  fire." 

"  Really,  Mr.  Gregory,  you  give  me  a  hot  answer, 
but  it  is  with  such  a  smiling  face  that  I  will  take  no 
exception.  Let  us  slowly  follow  Jeff  and  the  chil 
dren  along  the  brow  of  the  hill  to  the  next  tree. 
The  fact  is  I  am  a  little  tired." 

What  .controversy  could  a  man  have  with  a  pretty 
and  weaned  girl  ?  Gregory  felt  like  a  boy  who  had 
received  a  deserved  whipping  and  yet  was  compelled 
and  somewhat  inclined  to  act  very  amiably  toward  the 
donor.  But  he  was  fast  coming  to  the  conclusion  that 
this  unassuming  country  girl  was  a  difficult  subject 
on  which  to  perform  his  experiment.  He  was  learn 
ing  to  have  a  wholesome  respect  for  her  that  was 
slightly  tinged  with  fear,  and  doubts  of  success  in 
his  plot  against  her  grew  stronger  every  moment. 
And  yet  the  element  of  persistency  was  large  in  his 
character,  and  he  could  not  readily  give  over  his 
purpose,  though  his  cynical  confidence  had  vanished. 
He  now  determined  to  observe  her  closely  and  dis 
cover  if  possible  her  weak  points.  He  still  held  to 
the  theory  that  flattery  was  the  most  available 
weapon,  though  he  saw  he  could  employ  it  no  longer 
in  the  form  of  fulsome  and  outspoken  compliment. 
The  innate  refinement  and  truthfulness  of  Annie's 
nature  revolted  at  broad  gallantry  and  adulation. 


INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS.  149 

He  believed  that  he  must  reverse  the  tactics  he 
usually  employed  in  society,  but  not  the  principles. 
Therefore  he  resolved  that  his  flattery  should  be 
delicate,  subtle,  manifested  in  manner  rather  than 
in  words.  He  would  seem  submissive ;  he  would 
humbly  wear  the  air  of  a  conquered  one.  He  would 
delicately  maintain  the  "  I-am-at-your-mercy "  atti 
tude. 

These  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind  as  they 
passed  along  the  brow  of  the  hill,  which  at  every 
turn  gave  them  a  new  and  beautiful  landscape.  But 
vales  in  Eden  would  not  have  held  his  attention  then. 
To  his  perplexity  this  new  acquaintance  had  secured 
his  undivided  interest.  He  felt  that  he  ought  to  be 
angry  at  her  and  yet  was  not.  He  felt  that  a  man 
who  had  seen  as  much  of  the  world  as  he  should  be 
able  to  play  with  this  little  country  girl  as  with  a 
child ;  but  he  was  becoming  convinced  that,  with  all 
his  art,  he  was  no  match  for  her  artlessness. 

In  the  interpretation  of  the  burr  of  her  own 
choice,  Annie  had  suggested  that  the  central  and 
supreme  place  in  her  heart  was  already  occupied, 
and  his  thoughts  recurred  frequently  to  that  fact 
with  uneasiness.  The  slightest  trace  of  jealousy, 
even  as  the  merest  twinge  of  pain  is  often  precursor 
of  serious  disease,  indicated  the  power  Miss  Walton 
might  gain  over  one  who  thought  himself  proof 
against  all  such  influence.  But  he  tried  to  satisfy 
himself  by  thinking,  "  It  is  her  father  who  occupies 
the  first  place  in  her  affections." 

Then  a  moment  later  with  a  mental  protest  at  his 


ISO  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

folly,  "  What  do  I  care  who  has  the  first  place  ?  It's 
well  I  do  not,  for  she  would  not  permit  such  a  rep 
robate  as  I,  with  evil  in  my  heart  like  that  cursed 
worm  in  the  chestnut,  to  have  any  place  worth  nam 
ing — unless  I  can  introduce  a  little  canker  of  evil  in 
her  heart  also.  I  wish  I  could.  That  would  bring 
us  nearer  together  and  upon  the  same  level." 

Annie  saw  the  landscapes.  She  looked  away  from 
the  man  by  her  side  and  for  a  few  moments  forgot 
him.  The  scenes  upon  which  she  was  gazing  were 
associated  with  another,  and  she  ardently  wished  that 
that  other  and  more  favored  one  could  exchange 
places  with  Gregory.  Her  eyes  grew  dreamy  and 
tender  as  she  recalled  words  spoken  in  days  gone  by, 
when,  her  heart  thrilling  with  a  young  girl's  first 
dream  of  love,  she  had  leaned  upon  Charles  Hunt 
ing's  arm,  and  listened  to  that  sweetest  music  of 
earth,  all  the  more  enchanting  when  broken  and 
incoherent ;  and  Hunting,  with  all  his  coolness  and 
precision  in  Wall  Street,  had  been  excessively  nervous 
and  unhappy  in  his  phraseology  upon  one  occasion, 
and  tremblingly  glad  to  get  any  terms  from  the  girl 
who  seemed  a  child  beside  him.  Annie  would  not 
permit  an  engagement  to  take  place.  Hunting  was 
a  distant  relative.  She  had  always  liked  him  very 
much,  but  was  not  sure  she  loved  him.  She  was 
extremely  reluctant  to  leave  her  father,  and  was  not 
ready  for  a  speedy  marriage  ;  so  she  frankly  told  him 
that  he  had  no  rival,  nor  was  there  a  prospect  of  any, 
but  she  would  not  bind  him,  or  permit  herself  to  be 
bound  at  that  time.  If  they  were  fated  for  each 


INTERPRE  TING  CHESTNUT  B  URRS.  151 

other  the  way  would  eventually  be  made  perfectly 
clear. 

He  was  quite  content,  especially  as  Mr.  Walton 
gave  his  hearty  approval  to  the  match,  and  he 
regarded  the  understanding  as  a  virtual  engagement- 
He  wanted  Annie  to  wear  the  significant  ring,  say 
ing  that  it  should  not  be  regarded  as  binding,  but  she 
declined  to  do  so. 

Nearly  two  years  had  passed,  and,  while  she  put 
him  off,  she  satisfied  him  that  he  was  steadily  gain 
ing  the  place  that  he  wished  to  possess  in  her  affec 
tions.  He  was  gifted  with  much  tact  and  did  not 
press  his  suit,  but  quietly  acted  as  if  the  matter  were 
really  settled,  and  it  were  only  a  question  of  time. 
Annie  had  also  come  to  feel  in  the  same  way.  She 
did  not  see  a  very  great  deal  of  him,  though  he  wrote 
regularly,  and  his  letters  were  admirable.  He 
became  her  ideal  man  and  dwelt  in  her  imagination 
as  a  demi-god.  To  the  practical  mind  of  this 
American  gin  his  successes  in  the  vast  and  compli 
cated  transactions  of  business  were  as  grand  as  the 
achievements  of  any  hero.  Her  father  had  been  a 
merchant,  and  she  inherited  a  respect  for  the  calling. 
Her  father  also  often  assured  her  that  her  lover  bade 
fair  to  lead  in  commercial  circles. 

"  Hunting  has  both  nerve  and  prudence,"  he  was 
wont  to  say  ;  and  to  impetuous  Annie  these  quali 
ties,  combined  with  Christian  principles,  formed  her 
very  ideal  man. 

Her  lover  took  great  pains  not  to  undeceive  her 
as  to  his  character,  and  indeed,  with  the  infatuation 


152  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

of  his  class,  hoped  that,  when  he  had  amassed  the 
fortune  that  glittered  ever  just  before  him,  he  could 
assume,  in  some  princely  mansion,  the  princely, 
knightly  soul  with  which  she  had  endowed  him. 

So  he  did  not  press  matters.  Indeed  in  his  rapid 
accumulation  of  money  he  scarcely  wished  any  inter 
ruption,  and  Annie  thought  all  the  more  of  him  that 
he  was  not  dawdling  around  making  love  half  the 
time.  There  was  also  less  danger  of  disenchanting 
her  by  his  presence,  for  woman's  perception  is 
quick. 

But  now  she  inwardly  contrasted  her  strong,  mas 
terful  knight,  " sans  peur  et  sans  reproche"  as  she 
believed,  with  the  enfeebled,  shrunken  man  at  her 
side.  Gregory  suffered  dreadfully  by  the  compari 
son.  The  worm-eaten  chestnut  seemed  truly  emble 
matic,  and  in  spite  of  herself  her  face  lighted  up  with 
exultation  and  joy  that  the  man  of  her  choice  was  a 
man,  and  not  one  upon  whom  she  could  not  lean 
for  even  physical  support. 

Gregory  caught  her  expression  and  said,  quickly, 
"  Your  face  is  full  of  sudden  gleams.  Tell  me  what 
you  are  thinking  about." 

She  blushed  deeply  in  the  consciousness  of  hel 
thoughts,  but  after  a  moment  said,  "  I  do  not  believe 
in  the  confessional." 

He  looked  at  her  keenly,  saying,  "  I  wish  you  did 
and  that  I  were  your  father  confessor." 

She  replied,  laughing,  "You  are  neither  old  nor 
good  enough.  If  I  were  of  that  faith  I  should  re 
quire  one  a  great  deal  older  and  better  than  myself. 


INTERPRE TING  CHESTNUT  B URRS.  1 5 3 

But  here  we  are  at  our  second  tree,  which  Jeff  has 
just  finished.  I  am  going  to  be  a  child  again  and 
gather  nuts  as  before.  I  hope  you  will  follow  suit, 
and  not  stand  leaning  against  the  tree  laughing  at 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"A  WELL-MEANIN'  MAN.** 

THE  western  horizon  vied  with  the  autumn  folk 
age  as  at  last  they  turned  homeward.  Their 
path  led  out  upon  the  main  road  some  distance 
above  the  house,  and,  laden  with  the  spoils  that 
would  greatly  diminish  the  squirrels'  hoard  for  the 
coming  winter,  they  sauntered  along  slowly,  from  a 
sense  of  both  weariness  and  leisure. 

They  soon  reached  the  cottage  of  the  lame  old 
man  who  had  fired  such  a  broadside  of  lurid  words 
at  Gregory,  as  he  stood  on  the  fence  opposite.  With 
a  crutch  under  one  arm  and  leaning  on  his  gate, 
Daddy  Tuggar  seemed  awaiting  them,  and  secured 
their  attention  by  the  laconic  salutation,  "  Evenin* !  " 

"  Why,  Daddy,"  exclaimed  Annie,  coming  quickly 
toward  him.  "  I  am  real  glad  to  see  you  so  spry  and 
well.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  getting  young 
again  ;  "  and  she  shook  the  old  man's  hand  heartily. 

"  Now  don't  praise  my  old  graveyard  of  a  body, 
Miss  Annie.  My  sperit  is  pert  enough,  but  it's  all 
buried  up  in  this  old  clumsy,  half-dead  carcass.  The 
worms  will  close  their  mortgage  on  it  purty  soon." 

"  But  they  haven't  a  mortgage  on  your  soul,"  said 


« '  A    WELL-MEA NIN'  MA N."  155 

Annie,  in  a  low  tone.  "  You  remember  what  I  said 
to  you  a  few  days  ago." 

"  Now  bless  you,  Miss  Annie,  but  it  takes  you  to 
put  in  a  'word  in  season.'  The  Lord  knows  I'm  a 
well-meanin'  man,  but  I  can't  seem  to  get  much 
furder.  I've  had  an  awful  '  fall  from  grace,'  my  wife 
says.  I  did  try  to  stop  swearin',  but  that  chap 
there — "  , 

"Oh,  excuse  me,"  interrupted  Annie.  "Mr. 
Gregory,  this  is  our  friend  and  neighbor  Mr.  Tuggar. 
I  was  under  the  impression  that  you  were  acquainted," 
she  added,  with  a  mischievous  look  at  her  companion. 

"  We  are.  I  have  met  this  gentleman  before,"  he 
replied,  with  a  wry  face.  "  Pardon  the  interruption, 
Mr.  Tuggar,  and  please  go  on  with  your  explanation." 

"Mr.  Gregory,  I  owe  you  a  'pology.  I'm  a  well- 
meanin'  man,  and  if  I  do  anyone  a  wrong  I'm  willin' 
to  own  it  up  and  do  the  square  thing.  But  I  meant 
right  by  you  and  I  meant  right  by  John  Walton  when 
I  thought  you  was  stealin'  his  apples.  I  couldn't 
hit  yer  with  a  stun  and  knock  yer  off  the  fence,  as  I 
might  a  dozen  years  ago,  so  I  took  the  next  hardest 
thing  I  could  lay  hands  on.  If  I'd  known  that  you 
was  kinder  one  of  the  family  my  words  would  have 
been  rolls  of  butter." 

"Well,  Mr.  Tuggar,  it  has  turned  out  very  well, 
for  /  would  rather  you  had  fired  what  you  did  than 
either  stones  or  butter." 

"  Now  my  wife  would  say  that  that  speech  showed 
you  was  '  totally  depraved/  And  this  brings  me 
back  to  my  '  fall  from  grace.'  Now,  yer  see,  to  please 


156  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

my  wife  some   and   Miss  Eulie   more,  I  was  tryin* 
cussed  hard  to  stop  swearin' — " 

"  Didn't  you  try  a  little  for  my  sake,  too  ?  "  inter- 
rupted  Annie. 

"  Lord  bless  you,  child  ;  I  don't  have  to  try  when 
you're  around,  for  I  don't  think  swearin'.  Most 
folks  rile  me,  and  I  get  a-thinkin'  swearin',  and  then 
'fore  I  know  it  busts  right  out.  You  could  take  the 
wickedest  cuss  livin'  to  heaven  in  spite  of  himself  if 
you  would  stay  right  by  him  all  the  time." 

"  I  should  '  rile  '  you,  too,  if  I  were  with  you  long, 
for  I  get  'riled  '  myself  sometimes." 

"  Do  you,  now?"  asked  Mr.  Tuggar,  looking  at 
her  admiringly.  "  Well,  I'm  mighty  glad  to  hear  it." 

"  O  Daddy  !  glad  to  hear  that  I  do  wrong  ?  " 

"  Can't  help  it,  Miss  Annie.  I  kinder  like  to  know 
you're  a  little  bit  of  a  sinner.  '  Tain't  often  I  meet 
with  a  sinner,  and  I  kind  o'  like  'em.  My  wife  says 
she's  a  '  great  sinner,'  but  she  means  she's  a  great 
saint.  'Twouldn't  do  forme  to  tell  her  she's  a  '  sin 
ner.'  Then  Miss  Eulie  says  she's  a  '  great  sinner,' 
and  between  you  and  me  that's  the  only  fib  I  ever 
caught  Miss  Eulie  in.  Good  Lord  !  there's  no  more 
sin  in  Miss  Eulie's  heart  than  there  is  specks  of  dirt 
on  the  little  white  ruff  she  wears  about  her  neck  that 
looks  like  the  snow  we  had  last  April  around  the 
white  hyacinths.  She's  kind  of  a  half-sperit  any 
how.  Now  your  goodness,  Miss  Annie,  is  another 
kind.  Your  cheeks  are  so  red,  and  eyes  so  black, 
and  arms  so  round  and  fat, — I've  seen  'em  when  you 
was  over  here  a-beatin'  up  good  things  for  the  old 


"A    WELL-MEANIN*  MAN."  157 

man, — that  you  make  me  think  of  red  and  pink 
posies.  I  kinder  think  you  might  be  a  little  bit  of  a 
sinner, — just  enough,  you  know,  to  make  you  under 
stand  how  I  and  him  there  can  be  mighty  big  ones, 
and  not  be  too  hard  on  us  for  it." 

"  Mr.  Tugrgar,  you  are  the  man  of  all  others  to 
plead  my  cause." 

"  Now  look  here,  young  gentleman,  you  must  do 
yer  own  pleadin'.  It  would  be  a  '  sinful  waste  of 
time  '  though,  as  my  wife  would  say, — eh,  Miss 
Annie  ?  I  never  had  no  luck  at  pleadin'  but  once, 
and  that  was  the  worst  luck  of  all." 

Annie's  face  might  well  suggest  "  red  posies  "  dur 
ing  the  last  remarks,  and  its  expression  was  divided 
between  a  frown  and  a  laugh. 

"  But  I  want  you  to  understand,"  continued  Daddy 
Tuggar,  straightening  himself  up  with  dignity,  and 
addressing  Gregory,  "  that  I'm  not  a  mean  cuss.  All 
who  know  me  know  I'm  a  well-meanin'  man.  I  try 
to  do  as  I'd  be  done  by.  If  I'm  going  through  a 
man's  field  and  find  his  bars  down,  so  the  cattle 
would  get  in  the  corn,  I'd  put  'em  up — " 

"  Yes,  Daddy,  that  is  what  you  always  say,"  inter- 
rupted  Annie  ;  "  but  you  can't  go  through  the  fields 
any  more  and  put  up  bars.  You  should  try  to  do 
the  duties  that  belong  to  your  present  state." 

"  But  I've  got  the  sperit  to  put  up  a  man's  bars, 
and  it's  all  the  same  as  if  I  did  put  'em  up,"  answered 
the  old  man,  with  some  irritation.  "  Miss  Eulie  and 
the  rest  of  yer  is  allers  sayin'  we  must  have  the  sperit 
of  willingness  to  give  up  the  hull  world  and  suffer 


158  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

martyrdom  on  what  looks  in  the  picture  like  a  big 
gridiron.  She  says  we  must  have  the  sperit  of  them 
who  was  cold  and  hungry  and  the  lions  eat  up  and 
was  sawn  in  two  pieces  and  had  an  awful  time  gener 
ally  for  the  sake  of  the  Lord,  and  that's  the  way  the 
Christians  manage  it  nowadays.  My  wife  gets  all 
the  money  she  can  and  keeps  it,  but  she  says  she  has 
the  sperit  to  give  up  the  hull  world.  I  wish  she'd 
give  up  enough  of  it  to  keep  me  in  good  terbacker. 
Mighty  few  nice  bits  would  the  old  man  git  wasn't 
it  for  you  and  Miss  Eulie.  Then  I  watch  the  good 
people  goin'  to  church.  'Mazin'  few  out  wet  Sun^ 
days.  But  no  doubt  they've  all  got  the  '  sperit '  to 
go.  They  would  jist  as  lief  be  sawn  in  two  pieces 
'  in  sperit '  as  not,  if  they  can  only  sleep  late  in  the 
mornin'  and  have  a  good  dinner  and  save  their  Sun- 
day-go-to-meetin'  clothes  from  gettin'  wet.  It  must 
be  so,  for  the  Lord  gets  mighty  little  worship  out  of 
the  church  on  rainy  Sundays.  If  it  wasn't  for  you 
and  Miss  Eulie  I  don't  know  what  would  become  of 
the  old  man  and  all  the  rest  of  the  sick  and  feeble 
folks  around  here.  I  ask  my  wife  why  she  doesn't 
go  to  see  'em  sometimes.  She  says  she  has  the 
'  sperit  to  go,'  but  she  hasn't  time  and  strength. 
So  I  have  the  '  sperit '  to  put  up  a  man's  bars  while  I 
sit  here  and  smoke,  and  what's  more,  Miss  Annie,  I 
did  it  as  long  as  I  was  able." 

"  You  did  indeed,  Daddy,  and,  though  uninten 
tionally,  you  have  given  me  a  good  lesson.  We  lit 
tle  deserve  to  be  mentioned  with  those  Christians 
who  in  olden  times  suffered  the  less  of  all  things,  and 
life  itself." 


"A    WELL'MEANIN'  MAN."  159 

••  Lord  bless  you,  child,  I  didn't  mean  you. 
Whether  you've  got  the  sperit  to  do  a  thing  or  not 
yer  allers  do  it,  and  in  a  sweet,  natteral  way,  as  if 
you  couldn't  help  it.  When  my  wife  enters  on  a 
good  work  it  makes  me  think  of  a  funeral.  I'm 
'mazin'  glad  you  didn't  live  in  old  times,  'cause  the 
lions  would  have  got  you  sure  'nuff.  Though,  if  it 
had  to  be,  I  would  kinder  liked  to  have  been  the 
lion  ;  "  and  the  old  man's  eyes  twinkled  humorously, 
while  Gregory  laughed  heartily. 

"  O  Daddy  Tuggar  !  "  exclaimed  Annie,  "that  is 
the  most  awful  compliment  I  ever  received.  If  you, 
with  your  spirit,  were  the  only  lion  I  had  to  deal 
with,  I  should  never  become  a  martyr.  You  shall 
have  some  jelly  instead,  and  now  I  must  go  home  in 
order  to  have  it  made  before  Sunday." 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Gregory.  "  You  were 
about  to  tell  us  how  I  caused  you  to  '  fall  from 
grace." 

"  So  I  was,  so  I  was,  and  I've  been  goin'  round 
Robin  Hood's  barn  ever  since.  Well,  I'd  been 
holdin'  in  on  myswearin'  a  longtime,  'cause  I  prom 
ised  Miss  Eulie  I'd  stop  if  I  could.  My  wife  said  I 
was  in  quite  a '  hopeful  state,'  while  I  felt  all  the  time 
as  if  I  was  sort  of  bottled  up  and  the  cork  might  fly 
out  any  minute.  Miss  Eulie,  she  came  and  rejoiced 
over  me  that  mornin',  and  my  wife  she  looked  so 
solemn  (she  allers  does  when  she  says  she  feels  glad) 
that  somehow  I  got  nervous,  and  then  my  wife  went 
to  the  store  and  didn't  get  the  kind  of  terbacker  I 
sent  for,  and  I  knew  the  cork  was  going  to  fly  out. 


160  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

I  was  smokin'  and  in  a  sort  of  a  doze,  when  the  first 
thing  I  knowed  a  big  stun  rolled  into  the  road,  and 
there  I  saw  a  strange  chap,  as  I  thought,  a-stealin' 
John  Walton's  apples  and  knockin'  down  the  fence. 
If  they'd  a  been  my  apples  I  might  have  held  in  a 
little  longer,  but  John  Walton's — it  was  like  a  dam 
givin'  way." 

"  It  was,  indeed,"  said  Gregory,  significantly.  "  It 
was  like  several." 

"  I  knowed  my  wife  heard  me,  and  if  she'd  come 
right  out  and  said,  '  You've  made  a  cussed  old  fool 
of  yourself,'  I  think  I  would  have  felt  better.  I 
knowed  she  was  goin*  to  speak  about  it  and  lament 
over  it,  and  I  wanted  her  to  do  it  right  away ;  but 
she  put  it  off,  and  kept  me  on  pins  and  needles  for 
ever  so  long.  At  last  she  said  with  solemn  joy, 
*  Thomas  Tuggar,  I  told  Miss  Eulie  I  feared  you  was 
still  in  a  state  of  natur,  and,  alas !  I  am  right ;  but 
how  she'll  mourn,  how  great  will  be  her  disappoint 
ment,  when  she  hears ; '  and  then  I  fell  into  a  *  state 
of  natur '  agin.  Now,  Miss  Annie,  if  the  Lord,  Miss 
Eulie,  and  you  all  could  only  see  I'm  a  well-meanin* 
man,  and  that  I  don't  mean  no  disrespect  to  anybody  ; 
that  it's  only  one  of  my  old,  rough  ways  that  I 
learned  from  my  father, — and  mother  too,  for  that 
matter,  I'm  sorry  to  say, — and  have  followed  so  long 
that  it's  bred  in  the  bone,  it  would  save  a  heap  of 
worry.  One  must  have  some  way  of  lettin'  off  steam. 
Now  my  wife  she  purses  up  her  mouth  so  tight 
you  couldn't  stick  a  pin  in  it  when  she's  riled. 
I  often  say  to  her,  '  Do  explode.  Open  your  mouth 


"A    WELL-MEANIN*  MAN."  161 

and  let  it  all  out  at  once.'  But  she  says  it  is  not 
becoming  for  such  as  her  ter  '  explode.'  But  it  will 
come  out  all  the  same,  only  it's  like  one  of  yer  cold 
north-east,  drizzlin',  fizzlin'  rain-storms.  And  now 
I've  made  a  clean  breast  of  it,  I  hope  you'll  kinder 
smooth  matters  over  with  Miss  Eulie ;  and  I  hope 
you,  sir,  will  just  think  of  what  I  said  as  spoken  to  a 
stranger  and  not  a  friend  of  the  family." 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Mr.  Tuggar.  I  hope  we  shall 
be  the  best  of  friends.  I  am  coming  over  to  have  a 
smoke  with  you,  and  see  if  I  can't  fill  your  pipe  with 
some  tobacco  that  is  like  us  both,  '  in  a  state  of 
natur.' " 

A  white-faced  woman  appeared  at  the  door,  and 
courtesying  low  to  Miss  Walton,  called,  "  Husband, 
it's  too  late  for  you  to  be  out ;  I  fear  your  health  will 
suffer." 

"  She's  bound  up  in  me,  you  see,"  said  the  old  man, 
with  a  curious  grimace.  "  Nothing  but  the  reading 
of  my  will  will  ever  comfort  her  when  I  die." 

"  Daddy,  Daddy,"  said  Annie,  reproachfully,  "  have 
charity.  Good-night ;  I  will  send  you  something 
nice  for  to-morrow." 

An  amused  smile  lingered  on  Gregory's  face  as 
they  pursued  their  way  homeward,  now  in  the  early 
twilight ;  but  Annie's  aspect  was  almost  one  of  sad 
ness.  After  a  little  he  said,  "  Well,  he  is  one  of  the 
oddest  specimens  of  humanity  I  ever  met." 

She  did  not  immediately  reply,  and  he,  looking  at 
her,  caught  her  expression. 

"  Why  is  your  face  so  clouded,  Miss  Annie?''  he 


162  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

asked.  "You  are  not  given  to  Mrs.  Tuggar's  style 
of  '  solemn  joy  '  ?  " 

"  What  a  perplexing  mystery  life  is  after  all ! " 
she  replied,  absently.  "  I  really  think  poor  old 
Daddy  Tuggar  speaks  truly.  He  is  a  '  well-meaning  ' 
man,  but  he  and  many  others  remind  me  of  one  not 
having  the  slightest  ear  for  music  trying  to  catch  a 
difficult  harmony." 

"Why  is  the  harmony  so  difficult?"  asked 
Gregory,  bitterly. 

"  Perhaps  it  were  better  to  ask,  Why  has  human 
ity  so  disabled  itself?" 

"  I  do  not  think  it  matters  much  how  you  put  the 
case.  It  amounts  to  the  same  thing.  Something  is 
required  of  us  beyond  our  strength.  The  idea  of 
punishing  that  old  man  for  being  what  he  is,  when 
in  the  first  place  he  inherited  evil  from  his  parents, 
and  then  was  taught  it  by  precept  and  example.  I 
think  he  deserves  more  credit  than  blame." 

"The  trouble  is,  Mr.  Gregory,  evil  carries  its  own 
punishment  along  with  it  every  day.  But  I  admit 
that  we  are  surrounded  by  mystery  on  every  side. 
Humanity,  left  to  itself,  is  a  hopeless  problem.  But 
one  thing  is  certain :  we  are  not  responsible  for 
questions  beyond  our  ken.  Moreover,  many  things 
that  were  complete  mysteries  to  me  as  a  child  are 
now  plain,  and  I  ever  hope  to  be  taught  something 
new  every  day.  You  and  I  at  least  have  much  to  be 
grateful  for  in  the  fact  that  we  neither  inherited  evil 
nor  were  taught  it  in  any  such  degree  as  our  poor 
neighbor." 


"A    WELL-MEANIN*  MAN."  163 

"And  you  quietly  prove,  Miss  Walton,  by  your 
last  remark,  that  I  am  much  more  worthy  of  blame 
than  your  poor  old  neighbor." 

"  Then  I  said  more  than  I  meant,"  she  answered, 
eagerly.  "  It  is  not  for  me  to  judge  or  condemn 
any  one.  The  thought  in  my  mind  was  how  favored 
we  have  been  in  our  parentage, — our  start  in  exist 
ence,  as  it  were." 

"  But  suppose  one  loses  that  vantage  ground  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  suppose  anything  of  the  kind." 

"  But  one  can  lose  it  utterly." 

"  I  fear  some  can  and  do.  But  why  dwell  on  a 
subject  so  unutterably  sad  and  painful  ?  You  have 
not  lost  it,  and,  as  I  said  before  to-day,  I  will  not 
dwell  upon  the  disagreeable  any  more  than  I  can 
help." 

"  Your  opinion  of  me  is  poor  enough  already, 
Miss  Walton,  so  I,  too,  will  drop  the  subject." 

They  had  now  reached  the  house,  and  did  ample 
justice  to  the  supper  awaiting  them. 

Between  meals  people  can  be  very  sentimental, 
morbid,  and  tragical.  They  can  stare  at  life's  deep 
mysteries  and  shudder  or  scoff,  sigh  or  rejoice,  ac 
cording  to  their  moral  conditions.  They  can  even 
grow  cold  with  dread,  as  did  Gregory,  realizing  that 
he  had  "  lost  his  vantage  ground,"  his  good  start  in 
the  endless  career.  "  She  is  steering  across  unknown 
seas  to  a  peaceful,  happy  shore.  I  am  drifting  on 
those  same  mysterious  waters  I  know  not  whither," 
he  thought.  But  a  few  minutes  after  entering  the 
cheerfully  lighted  dining-room  he  was  giving  his 
whole  soul  to  muffins. 


164  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

These  homely  and  ever-recurring  duties  and  plea*, 
ures  of  life  have  no  doubt  saved  multitudes  from 
madness.  It  would  almost  seem  that  they  have  also 
been  the  innocent  cause  of  the  destruction  of  many. 
There  are  times  when  the  mind  is  almost  evenly  bal 
anced  between  good  and  evil.  Some  powerful  appeal 
or  startling  providence  has  aroused  the  sleeping 
spirit,  or  some  vivifying  truth  has  pierced  the  armor 
of  indifference  or  prejudice,  and  quivered  like  an 
arrow  in  the  soul,  and  the  man  remembers  that  he 
is  a  man,  and  not  a  brute  that  perishes.  But  just 
then  the  dinner-bell  sounds.  After  the  several 
courses,  any  physician  can  predict  how  the  powers 
of  that  human  organization  must  of  necessity  be 
employed  the  next  few  hours,  and  the  partially 
awakened  soul  is  like  one  who  starts  out  of  a  doze 
and  sleeps  again.  If  the  spiritual  nature  had  only 
becpme  sufficiently  aroused  to  realize  the  situation, 
life  might  have  been  secured.  Thought  and  feeling 
in  some  emergencies  will  do  more  than  the  grandest 
pulpit  eloquence  quenched  by  a  Sunday  dinner. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MISS  WALTON'S  DREAM. 

HPHE  hickory  fire  burned  cheerily  in  the  parlor 
1  after  tea,  and  all  drew  gladly  around  its  wel 
come  blaze.  But  even  the  delights  of  roasting  chest 
nuts  from  the  abundant  spoils  of  the  afternoon  could 
not  keep  the  heads  of  the  children  from  drooping 
early. 

Gregory  was  greatly  fatigued,  and  soon  went  to 
his  room  also. 

Sabbath  morning  dawned  dim  and  uncertain,  and 
by  the  time  they  had  gathered  at  the  breakfast-table, 
a  north-east  rain-storm  had  set  in  with  a  driving 
gale. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  go  to  church  '  in  sperit '  this 
morning,  as  Mr.  Tuggar  would  say,"  said  Gregory, 
addressing  Annie. 

"  If  I  were  on  the  sick  list  I  should,  but  I  have  no 
such  excuse." 

"  You  seriously  do  not  mean  to  ride  two  miles  in 
such  a  storm  as  this  ?  " 

"  No,  not  seriously,  but  very  cheerfully  and 
gladly." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  is  required  of  you,  Miss  Walton. 


1 6 6  OPENING  A  CHES TNUT  B  URR. 

Even  your  Bible  states,  '  I  will  have  mercy  and  not 
sacrifice/  ' 

"  The  '  sacrifice  '  in  my  case  would  be  in  staying 
at  home.  I  like  to  be  out  in  a  storm,  and  have 
plenty  of  warm  blood  to  resist  its  chilling  effects. 
But  even  were  it  otherwise,  what  hardship  is  there 
in  my  wrapping  myself  up  in  a  waterproof  and  rid 
ing  a  few  miles  to  a  comfortable  church  ?  I  shall 
come  back  with  a  grand  appetite  and  a  double  zest 
for  the  wood  fire." 

"But  it  is  not  fair  on  the  poor  horses.  They  have 
no  waterproofs  or  wood  fires." 

"  I  think  I  am  not  indifferent  to  the  comfort  of 
dumb  animals,  and  though  I  drive  a  good  deal, 
father  can  tell  you  I  am  not  a  'whip/  Of  all  shams 
the  most  transparent  is  this  tenderness  for  one's  self 
and  the  horses  on  Sunday.  I  am  often  out  in  stormy 
weather  during  the  week,  and  meet  plenty  of  people 
on  the  road.  The  farmers  drive  to  the  village  on 
rainy  days  because  they  can  neither  plough,  sow, 
nor  reap.  But  on  even  a  cloudy  Sabbath,  with  the 
faintest  prospect  of  rain,  there  is  but  one  text  in  the 
Bible  for  them  :  '  A  righteous  man  regardeth  the 
life  of  his  beast.'  People  attend  parties,  the  opera, 
and  places  of  amusement  no  matter  how  bad  the 
night.  It  is  a  miserable  pretence  to  say  that  the 
weather  keeps  the  majority  at  home  from  church. 
It  is  only  an  excuse.  I  should  have  a  great  deal 
more  respect  for  them  if  they  would  say  frankly, 
*  We  would  rather  sleep,  read  a  novel,  dawdle  around 
en  deshabille,  and  gossip.'  Half  the  time  when  they 


MISS  WALTON'S  DKEAM.  167 

say  it's  too  stormy  to  venture  out  (oh,  the  heroism 
of  our  Christian  age  !),  they  should  go  and  thank 
God  for  the  rain  that  is  providing  food  for  them  and 
theirs. 

"And  granting  that  our  Christian  duties  do 
involve  some  risk  and  hardship,  does  not  the  Bibl* 
ever  speak  of  life  as  a  warfare,  a  struggle,  an  agoniz 
ing  for  success  ?  Do  not  armies  often  fight  and 
march  in  the  rain,  and  dumb  beasts  share  their 
exposure  ?  There  is  more  at  stake  in  this  battle. 
In  ancient  times  God  commanded  the  bloody  sacri 
fice  of  innumerable  animals  for  the  sake  of  moral  and 
religious  effect.  Moral  and  religious  effect  is  worth 
just  as  much  now.  Nothing  can  excuse  wanton 
cruelty ;  but  the  soldier  who  spurs  his  horse  against 
the  enemy,  and  the  sentinel  who  keeps  his  out  in  a 
winter  storm,  are  not  cruel.  But  many  fanners  about 
here  will  overwork  and  underfeed  all  the  week,  and 
on  Sunday  talk  about  being  '  merciful  to  their  beasts.' 
There  won't  be  over  twenty-five  out  to-day,  and  the 
Christian  heroes,  the  sturdy  yeomanry  of  the  church, 
will  be  dozing  and  grumbling  in  chimney-corners. 
The  languid  half-heartedness  of  the  church  discour 
ages  me  more  than  all  the  evil  in  the  world." 

Miss  Walton  stated  her  views  in  a  quiet  undertone 
of  indignation,  and  not  so  much  in  answer  to  Gregory 
as  in  protest  against  a  style  of  action  utterly  repug 
nant  to  her  earnest,  whole-souled  nature.  As  he  saw 
the  young  girl's  face  light  up  with  the  will  and  pur 
pose  to  be  loyal  to  a  noble  cause,  his  own  aimless, 
self-pleasing  life  seemed  petty  and  contemptible  in' 


1 6 8  OPENING  A  CHES TNUT  B  URR. 

deed,  and  again  he  had  that  painful  sense  of  humil 
iation  which  Miss  Walton  unwittingly  caused  him ; 
but,  as  was  often  his  way,  he  laughed  the  matter  off 
by  saying,  "  There  is  no  need  of  my  going  to-day,  for 
I  have  had  my  sermon,  and  a  better  one  than  you 
will  hear.  Still,  such  is  the  effect  of  your  homily 
that  I  am  inclined  to  ask  you  to  take  me  with  you." 

Annie's  manner  changed  instantly,  and  she  smil 
ingly  answered,  "  You  will  find  an  arm-chair  before 
a  blazing  fire  in  your  room  up-stairs,  and  an  arm 
chair  before  a  blazing  fire  in  the  parlor,  and  you  can 
vacillate  between  them  at  your  pleasure." 

"  As  a  vacillating  man  should,  perhaps  you  might 
add." 

"  I  add  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  Will  you  never  let  me  go  to  church  with  you 
again  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  after  what  you  said,  any  pleasant 
day." 

"  Why  can't  I  have  the  privilege  of  being  a  martyr 
as  well  as  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  a  martyr.  I  would  far  rather  go  out  to 
day  than  stay  at  home." 

"  It  will  be  very  lonely  without  you." 

"  Oh,  you  are  the  martyr  then,  after  all.  I  hope 
you  will  have  sufficient  fortitude  to  endure,  and  doze 
comfortably  during  the  two  hours  of  my  absence." 

"  Now  you  are  satirical  on  Sunday,  Miss  Walton. 
Let  that  burden  your  conscience.  I'm  going  to  ask 
your  father  if  I  may  go." 

"  Of  course  you  will  act  at  your  pleasure,"  said 


MISS  WALTON  S  DREAM.  169 

Mr.  Walton,  "  but  I  think,  in  your  present  state  of 
health,  Annie  has  suggested  the  wiser  and  safer 
thing  to  do." 

"  I  should  probably  be  ill  on  your  hands  if  I  went, 
so  I  submit ;  but  I  wish  you  to  take  note,  Miss  Wal 
ton,  that  I  have  the  '  sperit  to  go.'" 

The  arm-chairs  were  cosey  and  comfortable,  and 
the  hickory  wood  turned,  as  is  its  wont,  into  glowing 
and  fragrant  coals,  but  the  house  grew  chill  and 
empty  the  moment  that  Annie  left  it.  Though  Mr. 
Walton  and  Miss  Eulie  accompanied  her,  their 
absence  was  rather  welcome,  but  he  felt  sure  that 
Annie  could  have  beguiled  the  heavy-footed  hours. 

"  She  has  some  unexplained  power  of  making  me 
forget  my  miserable  self,"  he  muttered. 

And  yet,  left  to  himself,  he  had  now  nothing  to  do 
but  think,  and  a  fearful  time  he  had  of  it,  lowering 
at  the  fire,  in  the  arm-chair,  from  which  he  scarcely 
stirred. 

"  I  have  lost  my  vantage  ground,"  he  groaned, — 
"  lost  it  utterly.  I  am  not  even  a  '  well-meaning 
man.'  I  purpose  evil  against  this  freshest,  purest 
spirit  I  have  ever  known  since  in  this  house  I  looked 
into  my  mother's  eyes.  I  am  worse  than  the  wild 
Arab  of  the  desert.  I  have  eaten  salt  with  them  ;  I 
have  partaken  of  their  generous  hospitality,  given  so 
cordially  for  the  sake  of  one  that  is  dead,  and  in 
return  have  wounded  their  most  sacred  feelings,  and 
now  propose  to  prove  the  daughter  a  creature  that  I 
can  go  away  and  despise.  Instead  of  being  glad 
that  there  is  one  in  the  world  noble  and  good,  even 


1 70        .  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

though  by  accident, — instead  of  noting  with  pleas, 
ure  that  every  sweet  flower  has  not  become  a  weed, 
— I  wish  to  drag  her  down  to  my  own  wretched 
level,  or  else  I  would  have  her  exhibit  sufficient 
weakness  to  show  that  she  would  go  as  far  as  she 
was  tempted  to  go.  A  decent  devil  could  hardly 
wish  her  worse.  I  would  like  to  see  her  show  the 
same  spirit  that  animates  Miss  Belle  St.  Clair  of  New 
York,  or  Mrs.  Grobb,  my  former  adored  Miss  Bently, 
• — creatures  that  I  despise  as  I  do  myself,  ind  what 
more  could  I  say?  If  I  could  only  cause  her  to 
show  some  of  their  characteristics  the  reproach  of 
her  life  would  pass  away,  and  I  should  be  confirmed 
in  my  belief  that  humanity's  unutterable  degrada 
tion  is  its  misfortune,  and  the  blame  should  rest 
elsewhere  than  on  us.  How  absurd  to  blame  water 
for  running  down  hill!  Give  man  or  woman  half  a 
chance,  that  is,  before  habits  are  fixed,  and  they 
plunge  faster  down  the  inclined  moral  plane.  And 
the  plague  of  it  is,  this  seeming  axiom  does  not  sat 
isfy  me.  What  business  has  my  conscience,  with  a 
lash  of  scorpion  stings,  to  punish  me  this  and  every 
day  that  I  permit  myself  to  think  ?  Did  I  not  try 
for  years  to  be  better  ?  Did  I  not  resist  the  infernal 
gravitation  ?  and  yet  I  am  falling  still.  I  never  did 
anything  so  mean  and  low  before  as  I  am  doing 
now.  If  it  is  my  nature  to  do  evil,  why  should  I 
not  do  it  without  compunction?  And  as  I  look 
downward — there  is  no  looking  forward  for  me — 
there  seems  no  evil  thing  that  I  could  not  do  if  so 
inclined.  Here  in  this  home  of  my  childhood,  this 


MISS  WALTON'S  DREAM.  171 

sacred  atmosphere  that  my  mother  breathed,  I  would 
besmirch  the  character  of  one  who  as  yet  is  pure 
and  good,  with  a  nature  like  a  white  hyacinth  in 
spring.  I  see  the  vileness  of  the  act,  I  loathe  it,  and 
yet  it  fascinates  me,  and  I  have  no  power  to  resist. 
Why  should  a  stern,  condemning  voice  declare  in 
recesses  of  my  soul,  l  You  could  and  should  resist '  ? 
For  years  I  have  been  daily  yielding  to  temptation, 
and  conscience  as  often  pronounces  sentence  against 
me.  When  will  the  hateful  farce  cease  ?  Multitudes 
appear  to  sin  without  thought  or  remorse.  Why 
cannot  I  ?  It's  my  mother's  doings,  I  suppose.  A 
plague  upon  the  early  memories  of  this  place.  Will 
they  keep  me  upon  the  rack  forever  ?  " 

He  rose,  strode  up  and  down  the  parlor,  ano 
clenched  his  hands  in  passionate  protest  against  him- 
self,  his  destiny,  and  the  God  who  made  him. 

A  chillness,  resulting  partly  from  dread  and  partly 
from  the  wild  storm  raging  without,  caused  him  to 
heap  up  the  hearth  with  wood.  It  speedily  leaped 
into  flame,  and,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  he 
sat  cowering  before  it.  A  vain  but  frequent  thought 
recurred  to  him  with  double  power. 

"  Oh  that  I  could  cease  to  exist,  and  lose  this 
miserable  consciousness  !  Oh  that,  like  this  wood, 
I  could  be  aflame  with  intense,  passionate  life,  and 
then  lose  identity,  memory,  and  everything  that 
makes  me,  and  pass  into  other  forms.  Nay,  more, 
if  I  had  my  wish,  I  would  become  nothing  here  and 
now." 

The  crackling  of  flames  and  the  rush  of  wind  and 


172  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

rain  against  the  windows  had  caused  the  sound  of 
wheels,  and  a  light  step  in  the  room,  to  be  unheard. 

He  was  aroused  by  Miss  Walton,  who  asked, 
"Mr.  Gregory,  are  you  ill?" 

He  raised  his  woe-begone  face  to  hers,  and  said, 
almost  irritably,  "  Yes — no — or  at  least  I  am  as  well 
as  I  ever  expect  to  be,  and  perhaps  better."  Then 
with  a  sudden  impulse  he  asked,  "  Does  annihilation 
seem  such  a  dreadful  thing  to  you?" 

"  What !  the  losing  of  an  eternity  of  keen  enjoy- 
ment  ?  Could  anything  be  more  dreadful  !  Really, 
Mr.  Gregory,  brooding  here  alone  has  not  been  good 
for  you.  Why  do  you  not  think  of  pleasant  things  ?  " 

"  For  the  same  reason  that  a  man  with  a  raging 
toothache  does  not  have  pleasant  sensations,"  he 
answered,  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  I  admit  the  force  of  your  reply,  though  I  do 
not  think  the  case  exactly  parallel.  The  mind  is 
not  as  helpless  as  the  body.  Still,  I  believe  it  is 
true  that  when  the  body  is  suffering  the  mind  is  apt 
to  become  the  prey  of  all  sorts  of  morbid  fancies,  and 
you  do  look  really  ill.  I  wish  I  could  give  you  some 
of  my  rampant  health  and  spirits  to-day.  Facing 
the  October  storm  has  done  me  good  every  way,  and 
I  am  ravenous  for  dinner." 

He  looked  at  her  enviously  as  she  stood  before 
him,  with  her  waterproof,  still  covered  with  rain 
drops,  partially  thrown  back  and  revealing  the  out 
line  of  a  form  which,  though  not  stout,  was  suggest 
ive  of  health  and  strength.  She  seemed,  with  her 
warm,  high  color,  like  a  hardy  flower  covered  with 


MISS  WA  L  TON '  S  DREA  AT.  173 

spray.  Instead  of  shrinking  feebly  and  delicately 
from  the  harsher  moods  of  nature,  and  coming  in 
pinched  and  shivering,  she  had  felt  the  blood  in  her 
veins  and  all  the  wheels  of  life  quickened  by  the 
gale. 

"  Miss  Walton,"  he  said,  with  a  glimmer  of  a 
smile,  "  do  you  know  that  you  are  very  different 
from  most  young  ladies?  You  and  nature  evidently 
have  some  deep  secrets  between  you.  I  half  believe 
you  never  will  grow  old,  but  are  one  of  the  peren 
nials.  I  am  glad  you  have  come  home,  for  you 
seem  to  bring  a  little  of  yesterday's  sunshine  into 
the  dreary  house." 

As  they  returned  to  the  parlor  after  dinner, 
Gregory  remarked,  "  Miss  Walton,  what  can  you  do 
to  interest  me  this  afternoon,  for  I  am  devoured 
with  ennui?" 

She  turned  upon  him  rather  quickly  and  said,  "A 
young  man  like  you  has  no  business  to  be  'devoured 
with  ennui.'  Why  not  engage  in  some  pursuit,  or 
take  up  some  subject  that  will  interest  you  and  stir 
your  pulse  ?  " 

With  a  touch  of  his  old  mock  gallantry  he  bowed 
and  said,  "In  you  I  see  just  the  subject,  and  am 
delighted  to  think  I'm  going  to  have  you  all  to 
myself  this  rainy  afternoon." 

With  a  half-vexed  laugh  and  somewhat  heightened 
color  she  answered,  "  I  imagine  you  won't  have  me 
all  to  yourself  long." 

She  had  hardly  spoken  the  words  before  the  chil 
dren  bounded  in,  exclaiming,  "  Now,  Aunt  Annie, 
for  our  stories." 


174  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Gregory,  here  are  previous  and 
counter  claims  already." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  of  some  way  of  successfully  dis 
puting  them." 

"  It  would  be  difficult  to  find.  Well,  come,  little 
people,  we  will  go  into  the  sitting-room  and  not  dis 
turb  Mr.  Gregory." 

"Now,  I  protest  against  that,"  he  said.  "You 
might  at  least  let  me  be  one  of  the  children." 

"  But  the  trouble  is,  you  won't  be  one,  but  will  sit 
by  criticising  and  laughing  at  our  infantile  talk." 

"  Now  you  do  me  wrong.  I  will  be  as  good  as  I 
can,  and  if  you  knew  how  long  and  dreary  the  day 
has  been  you  would  not  refuse." 

She  looked  at  him  keenly  for  a  moment,  and 
then  said,  a  little  doubtfully,  "  Well,  I  will  try  for 
once.  Run  and  get  your  favorite  Sunday  b^oks, 
children." 

When  they  were  alone  he  asked,  "  Hov  jan  you 
permit  these  youngsters  to  be  such  a  burden  ?  " 

"  They  are  not  a  burden,"  she  answered. 

"  But  a  nurse  could  take  care  of  them  and  keep 
them  quiet." 

"  If  their  father  and  mother  were  living  they  would 
not  think  '  keeping  them  quiet '  all  their  duty  toward 
them,  nor  do  I,  to  whom  they  were  left  as  a  sacred 
trust." 

"  That  awful  word  '  duty '  rules  you,  Miss  Walton, 
with  a  rod  of  iron." 

"  Do  I  seem  like  a  harshly  driven  .  slave  ? "  sh» 
asked,  smilingly. 


MISS  WA  L  TON '  S  DREAM.  175 

"  No,  and  I  cannot  understand  you." 

"  That  is  because  your  philosophy  of  life  is  wrong. 
You  still  belong  to  that  old  school  who  would  have 
it  that  sun,  moon,  and  stars  revolve  around  the 
earth.  But  here  are  the  books,  and  if  you  are  to  be 
one  of  the  children  you  must  do  as  I  bid  you, — be 
still  and  listen." 

It  was  strange  to  Gregory  how  content  he  was  to 
obey.  He  was  surprised  at  his  interest  in  the  old 
Bible  stories  told  in  childish  language,  and  as  Annie 
stopped  to  explain  a  point  or  answer  a  question,  he- 
found  himself  listening  as  did  the  eager  little  boy 
sitting  on  the  floor  at  her  feet.  The  hackneyed 
man  of  the  world  could  not  understand  how  the 
true,  simple  language  of  nature,  like  the  little  brown 
blossoms  of  lichens,  has  a  beauty  of  its  own. 

At  the  same  time  he  had  a  growing  consciousness 
that  perhaps  there  was  something  in  the  reader  also 
which  mainly  held  his  interest.  It  was  pleasant  to 
listen  to  the  low,  musical  voice.  It  was  pleasant  to 
see  the  red  lips  drop  the  words  so  easily  yet  so  dis 
tinctly,  and  chief  of  all  was  the  consciousness  of  a 
vitalized  presence  that  made  the  room  seem  full 
when  she  was  in  it,  and  empty  when  she  was  absent, 
though  all  others  remained. 

He  truly  shared  the  children's  regret  when  at  last 
she  said,  u  Now  I  am  tired,  and  must  go  up-stairs 
and  rest  awhile  before  supper,  after  which  we  will 
have  some  music.  You  can  go  into  the  sitting-room 
and  look  at  the  pictures  till  the  tea-bell  rings.  Mr. 
Gregory,  will  my  excuse  to  the  children  answer  for 
you  also  ?  " 


176  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

I 

"  I  suppose  it  must,  though  I  have  no  pictures  to 
look  at." 

She  suddenly  appeared  to  change  her  mind,  and 
said,  briskly,  "Come,  sir,  what  you  need  is  work  for 
others.  I  have  read  to  you,  and  you  ought  to  be 
willing  to  read  to  me.  If  you  please,  I  will  rest  in 
the  arm-chair  here  instead  of  in  my  room." 

"I  will  take  your  medicine,'  he  said,  eagerly, 
"  without  a  wry  face,  though  an  indifferent  reader, 
while  I  think  you  are  a  remarkably  good  one  ;  and 
let  me  tell  you  it  is  one  of  the  rarest  accomplish 
ments  we  find.  You  shall  also  choose  the  book." 

"  What  unaccountable  amiableness!  "  she  replied, 
laughing.  "  I  fear  I  shall  reward  you  by  going  to 
sleep." 

"  Very  well,  anything  so  I  am  not  left  alone  again. 
I  am  wretched  company  for  myself." 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  for  my  sake  you  are  so  good,  after 
all !  " 

"You  think  me  a  selfish  wretch,  Miss  Walton." 

"  I  think  you  are  like  myself,  capable  of  much 
improvement.  But  I  wish  to  rest,  and  you  must  not 
talk,  but  read.  There  is  the  Schonberg-Cotta  Fam 
ily.  I  have  been  over  it  two  or  three  times,  so  if  I 
lose  the  thread  of  the  story  it  does  not  matter." 

He  wheeled  the  arm-chair  up  to  the  fire  for  her, 
and  for  a  while  she  listened  with  interest ;  but  at 
last  her  lids  drooped  and  soon  closed,  and  her  regular 
breathing  showed  that  she  was  sleeping.  His  voice 
sank  in  lower  and  lower  monotone  lest  his  sudden 
stopping  should  awaken  her,  then  he  laid  down  his 


MISS  WAL  TON 'S  DREAM.  1 7  ^ 

book  and  read  a  different  story  in  the  pure  young 
fice  turned  toward  him. 

"  It  is  not  beautiful,"  he  thought,  "  but  it  is  a  real, 
good  face.  I  should  not  be  attracted  toward  it  in  a 
thronged  and  brilliant  drawing-room.  I  might  not 
notice  it  on  Fifth  Avenue,  but  if  I  were  ill  and  in 
deep  trouble,  it  is  just  such  a  face  as  I  should  like  to 
see  bending  over  me.  Am  I  not  ill  and  in  deep 
trouble  ?  I  have  lost  my  health  and  lost  my  man 
hood.  What  worse  disasters  this  side  death  can  I 
experience  ?  Be  careful,  Walter  Gregory,  you  may 
be  breaking  the  one  clew  that  can  lead  you  out  of 
the  labyrinth.  You  may  be  seeking  to  palsy  the 
one  hand  that  can  help  you.  Mother  believed  in  a 
special  Providence.  Is  it  her  suggestion  that  now 
flashes  in  my  mind  that  God  in  mercy  has  brought 
me  to  this  place  of  sacred  memories,  and  given  me 
the  companionship  of  this  good  woman,  that  the 
bitter  waters  of  my  life  may  be  sweetened  ?  I  do  not 
know  from  whom  else  it  can  come. 

"And  yet  the  infernal  fascination  of  evil !  I  can 
not — I  will  not  give  up  my  purpose  toward  her. 
Vain  dreams  !  Miss  Walton  or  an  angel  of  light 
could  not  reclaim  me.  My  impetus  downward  is 
too  great. 

"  Oh,  the  rest  and  peace  of  that  face  !  Physical 
rest  and  a  quiet,  happy  spirit  dwell  in  every  line. 
She  sleeps  there  like  a  child,  little  dreaming  that  a 
demon  is  watching  her.  But  she  says  that  she  is 
guarded.  Perhaps  she  is.  A  strong  viewless  one 
with  a  flaming  sword  may  stand  between  her  and  me. 


178  OPENING  A  CHE STNUT  B  URR. 

I 

"  Weak  fool !  Enough  of  this.  I  shall  carry  out 
my  experiment  fully,  and  when  I  have  succeeded  <>r 
failed,  I  can  come  to  some  conclusion  on  matters 
now  in  doubt. 

"  I  should  like  to  kiss  those  red  parted  lips.  I 
wonder  what  she  would  do  if  I  did  ?  "  Annie's  brow 
darkened  into  a  frown.  Suddenly  she  started  up 
and  looked  at  him,  but  seemed  satisfied  from  his 
distance  and  motionless  aspect. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked, 

"  Oh,  nothing.  I  had  a  dream,"  she  said,  with  a 
slight  flush. 

"  Please  tell  it,"  he  said,  though  he  feared  her 
answer. 

"  You  will  not  like  it.     Besides,  it's  too  absurd." 

"  You  pique  my  curiosity.     Tell  it  by  all  means." 

"  Well,  then,  you  mustn't  be  angry ;  and  remem 
ber,  I  have  no  faith  in  sleeping  vagaries.  I  dreamed 
that  you  were  transformed  into  a  large  tiger,  and 
came  stealthily  to  bite  me." 

He  was  startled  as  he  recalled  his  thought  at  the 
moment  of  her  awaking,  but  had  the  presence  of 
mind  to  say,  "  Let  me  interpret  the  dream." 

"  Well." 

*  You  know,  I  suppose,  that  dreams  go  by  con 
traries.  Suppose  a  true  friend  wished  to  steal  a  kiss 
in  your  unconsciousness." 

"  True  friends  do  not  steal  from  us,"  she  replied, 
laughing.  "  I  don't  know  whether  it  was  safe  to  let 
you  read  me  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  It's  not  wrong  to  be  tempted,  is  it  ?     One  can't 


MISS  WAL  TON 'S  DREAM.  I  ^ 9 

help  that.  As  Mr.  Tuggar  says,  I  might  have  the 
'  sperit  to  do  it,'  and  yet  remain  quietly  in  my  chair, 
as  I  have." 

"You  make  an  admission  in  your  explanation. 
Well,  it  was  queer,"  she  added,  absently. 

Gregory  thought  so  too,  and  was  annoyed  at  her 
unexpected  clairvoyant  powers.  But  he  said,  as  if  a 
little  piqued,  "  If  you  think  me  a  tiger  you  had  bet 
ter  not  sleep  within  my  reach,  or  you  may  find  your 
face  sadly  mutilated  on  awaking." 

"  Nonsense,"  she  said.  "  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  a 
gentleman.  We  are  talking  like  foolish  children." 

The  tea-bell  now  rang,  and  Gregory  obeyed  its 
summons  in  a  very  perplexed  state.  His  manner 
was  rather  absent  during  the  meal,  but  Annie  seemed 
to  take  pains  to  be  kind  and  reassuring.  The  day, 
so  far  from  being  a  restraint,  appeared  one  of  habit 
ual  cheerfulness,  which  even  the  dreary  storm  with 
out  could  not  dampen. 

"  We  shall  have  a  grand  sing  to-night  with  the 
assistance  of  your  voice,  I  hope,  Mr.  Gregory,"  said 
Mr.  Walton,  as  they  all  adjourned  to  the  parlor. 

"  I  do  not  sing  by  note,"  he  replied.  "  When  I 
can  I  will  join  you,  though  I  much  prefer  listening  to 
Miss  Walton." 

"  Miss  Walton  prefers  nothing  of  the  kind,  and 
we  shall  sing  only  what  you  know,"  she  said,  with  a 
smiling  glance  at  him  over  her  shoulder,  as  she  was 
making  selections  from  the  music-stand. 

Soon  they  were  all  standing  round  the  piano,  save 
Mr.  Walton,  who  sat  near  in  his  arm-chair,  his  face 


l8o  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

the  picture  of  placid  enjoyment  as  he  looked  on  the 
little  group  so  dear  to  him.  They  began  with  the 
children's  favorites  from  the  Sabbath-school  books, 
the  little  boy  dutifully  finding  the  place  for  his 
grandfather.  Many  of  them  were  the  same  that 
Gregory  had  sung  long  years  before,  standing  in  the 
same  place,  a  child  like  Johnny,  and  the  vivid  mem 
ories  thus  recalled  made  his  voice  a  little  husky 
occasionally.  Annie  once  gave  him  a  quick  look  of 
sympathy,  not  curious  but  appreciative. 

"  She  seems  to  know  what  is  passing  in  my  soul," 
he  thought ;  "  I  never  knew  a  woman  with  such 
intuitions." 

The  combined  result  of  their  voices  was  true  home 
music,  in  which  were  blended  the  tones  of  childhood 
and  age.  Annie,  with  her  sweet  soprano,  led,  and 
gave  time  and  -key  to  them  all,  very  much  as  by  the 
force  and  loveliness  of  her  character  she  influenced 
the  daily  harmony  of  their  lives.  The  children,  with 
their  imitative  faculty,  seemed  to  gather  from  her 
lips  how  to  follow  with  fair  correctness,  and  they 
chirped  through  the  tunes  like  two  intelligent  rob 
ins.  Miss  Eulie  sang  a  sweet  though  rather  faint 
alto  that  was  like  a  low  minor  key  in  a  happy  life. 
Mr.  Walton's  melody  was  rather  that  of  the  heart, 
for  his  voice  was  returning  to  the  weakness  of  child 
hood,  and  his  ear  was  scarcely  quick  enough  for  the 
rapid  changes  of  the  air,  and  yet,  unless  "  grandpa  " 
joined  with  them,  all  felt  that  the  circle  was  incom 
plete. 

Gregory  was  a  foreign  element  in  the  little  group, 


MISS  WALTON'S  DREAM.  181 

almost  a  stranger  to  its  personnel,  and  more  estranged 
from  the  sacred  meanings  and  feeling  of  the  hour ; 
yet  such  was  the  power  of  example,  so  strong  were 
the  sweet  home-spells  of  this  Christian  family,  that 
to  his  surprise  he  found  himself  entering  with  zest 
into  a  scene  that  on  the  Sabbath  before  he  would 
have  regarded  as  an  unmitigated  bore.  The  thought 
flashed  across  him,  "  How  some  of  my  club  acquaint 
ances  would  laugh  to  see  me  standing  between  two 
children  singing  Sabbath-school  hymns  !  " 

It  was  also  a  sad  truth  that  he  could  go  away  from 
all  present  influences  to  spend  the  next  Sabbath  at 
his  club  in  the  ordinary  style. 

When  the  children's  hour  had  passed  and  they 
had  been  tucked  away  to  peaceful  spring-time 
dreams,  though  a  storm,  the  precursor  of  winter, 
raged  without,  Annie  returned  to  the  parlor  and  said, 
"  Now,  Mr.  Gregory,  we  can  have  some  singing 
more  to  your  taste." 

"  I  have  been  one  of  the  children  to-day/'  he 
replied,  "  so  you  must  let  me  off  with  them  from 
any  further  singing  myself." 

"  If  you  insist  on  playing  the  children's  r6l*  you 
must  go  to  bed.  I  have  some  grand  old  hymns  that 
I've  been  wishing  to  try  with  you." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  I  am  but  half  a  man.  At 
the  risk  of  your  contempt  I  must  say  in  frankness 
that  my  whole  physical  nature  yearns  for  my  arm, 
chair.  But  please  do  not  call  my  weakness  lav. 
If  you  will  sing  to  me  just  what  you  please,  a 
ing  to  your  mood,  I  for  one  will  be  grateful." 


1 8  2  OPENING  A  CHES  TNV  T  B  URR. 

"  Even  a  dragon  could  not  resist  such  an  appeal," 
said  Annie,  laughing.  She  sat  down  to  her  piano 
and  soon  partially  forgot  her  audience,  in  an  old 
Sabbath  evening  habit,  well  known  to  natural  musi 
cians,  of  expressing  her  deeper  and  more  sacred  feel 
ings  in  words  and  notes  that  harmonized  with  them. 
Gregory  sat  and  listened  as  the  young  girl  unwit 
tingly  revealed  a  new  element  in  her  nature. 

In  her  every-day  life  she  appeared  to  him  full  of 
force  and  power,  practical  and  resolute.  To  one  of 
his  sporting  tastes  she  suggested  a  mettled  steed 
whose  high  spirit  was  kept  in  check  by  thorough 
training.  Her  conversation  was  piquant,  at  times  a 
little  brusque,  and  utterly  devoid  of  sentimentality. 
But  now  her  choice  of  poetic  thought  and  her  tones 
revealed  a  wealth  of  womanly  tenderness,  and  he 
was  compelled  to  feel  that  her  religion  was  not  legal 
and  cold,  a  system  of  duties,  beliefs,  and  restraints, 
but  something  that  seemed  to  stir  the  depths  of  her 
soul  with  mystic  longings,  and  overflow  her  heart 
with  love.  She  was  not  adoring  the  Creator,  nor 
paying  homage  to  a  king ;  but,  as  the  perfume  rises 
from  a  flower,  so  her  voice  and  manner  seemed  the 
natural  expression  of  a  true,  strong  affection  for  God 
Himself,  not  afar  off,  but  known  as  a  near  and  dear 
friend.  In  her  sweet  tones  there  was  not  the  faint 
est  suggestion  of  the  effect  or  style  that  a  profes 
sional  singer  would  aim  at.  She  thought  no  more 
of  these  than  would  a  thrush  swaying  on  its  spray  in 
the  twilight  of  a  June  evening.  As  unaffectedly  as 
the  bird  she  sang  according  to  the  inward  prompt- 


MISS  WALTON'S  DREAM.  183 

ings  of  a  nature  purified  and  made  lovely  by  the 
grace  of  God. 

No  one  not  utterly  given  over  to  evil  could  have 
listened  unmoved,  still  less  Gregory,  with  his  sensi 
tive,  beauty-loving,  though  perverted  nature.  The 
spirit  of  David's  harp  again  breathed  its  divine  peace 
on  his  sin-disquieted  soul.  The  words  of  old  Daddy 
Tuggar  flashed  across  him,  and  he  muttered, 

"  Yes,  she  could  take  even  me  to  heaven,  '  if  she 
stayed  right  by  me.'  " 

When  finally,  with  heartfelt  sincerity,  she  sang  the 
following  simple  words  to  an  air  that  seemed  a  part 
of  them,  he  envied  her  from  the  depths  of  his  soul, 
and  felt  that  he  would  readily  barter  away  any 
earthly  possession  and  life  itself  for  a  like  faith  : 

Nearer,  nearer,  ever  nearer, 

Come  I  gladly  unto  Thee  ; 
And  the  days  are  growing  brighter 

With  Thy  presence  nearer  me. 

Though  a  pilgrim,  not  a  stranger ; 

This  Thy  land,  and  I  Thine  own  ; 
At  Thy  side,  thus  free  from  danger, 

Find  I  paths  with  flowers  strown. 

Voices  varied,  nature  speaking, 

Call  to  me  on  every  side  ; 
Friends  and  kindred  give  their  greeting, 

In  Thy  sunshine  I  abide. 

Though  my  way  were  flinty,  thorny, 

Were  I  sure  it  led  to  Thee, 
Could  I  pass  one  day  forlornly, 

Home  and  rest  so  near  to  me  ? 


1 84  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Then  she  brought  the  old  family  Bible,  indicating 
that  after  that  hour  she  was  in  no  mood  for  com 
monplace  conversation.  In  the  hush  that  followed, 
the  good  old  man  reverently  read  a  favorite  passage, 
which  seemed  not  to  consist  of  cold,  printed  words, 
but  to  be  a  part  of  a  loving  letter  sent  by  the  Divine 
Father  to  His  absent  children. 

As  such  it  was  received  by  all  save  Gregory.  He 
sat  among  them  as  a  stranger  and  an  alien,  cut  off 
by  his  own  acts  from  those  ties  which  make  one 
household  of  earth  and  heaven.  But  such  was  the 
influence  of  the  evening  upon  him  that  he  realized  as 
never  before  his  loss  and  loneliness.  He  longed 
intensely  to  share  in  their  feelings,  and  to  appro 
priate  the  words  of  love  and  promise  that  Mr.  Wal 
ton  read. 

The  prayer  that  followed  was  so  tender,  so  full  of 
heartfelt  interest  in  his  guest,  that  Gregory's  feel 
ings  were  deeply  touched.  He  arose  from  his  knees, 
and  again  shaded  his  face  to  hide  the  traces  of  his 
emotion. 

When  at  last  he  looked  up,  Mr.  Walton  was 
quietly  reading,  and  the  ladies  had  retired.  He  rose 
and  bade  Mr.  Walton  good-night  with  a  strong  but 
silent  grasp  of  the  hand. 

The  thought  flashed  across  him  as  he  went  to  his 
room,  that  after  this  evening  and  the  grasp  as  of 
friendship  he  had  just  given  the  father,  he  could  not 
in  the  faintest  degree  meditate  evil  against  the 
daughter.  But  so  conscious  was  he  of  moral  weak 
ness,  so  self-distrustful  in  view  of  many  broken  reso- 


MISS  WAL  TON ' S  DREAM.  1 85 

lutions,  that  he  dared  resolve  on  nothing.  He  at 
last  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep  with  the  vain,  regret- 
ful  thought,  "  Oh  that  I  had  not  lost  my  vantage 
ground  !  Oh  that  I  could  live  my  life  over  again  !  " 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

4N  ACCIDENT   IN   THE   MOUNTAINS. 

TN  view  of  her  recent  stormy  mood,  Nature  seemed 
•*•  full  of  regretful  relentings  on  Monday,  and,  as 
if  to  make  amends  for  her  harshness,  assumed  some, 
thing  of  a  summer  softness.  The  sun  had  not  the 
glaring  brightness  that  dazzles,  and  the  atmosphere, 
purified  by  the  recent  rain,  revealed  through  its 
crystal  depths  objects  with  unusual  distinctness. 

"  It  is  a  splendid  day  for  a  mountain  ramble,"  said 
Annie,  with  vivacity,  at  the  breakfast-table. 

"  Why  don't  you  take  old  Dolly  and  the  mountain 
wagon,  and  show  Mr.  Gregory  some  of  our  fine  views 
this  afternoon  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Walton. 

"  Nothing  would  please  me  more,"  said  his  daugh 
ter,  cordially  ;  "  that  is,  if  Mr.  Gregory  feels  equal  to 
the  fatigue." 

"  I'd  be  at  my  last  gasp  if  I  refused  such  an 
offer,"  said  Gregory,  eagerly.  "  It  would  do  me 
good,  for  I  feel  much  stronger  than  when  I  first 
came,  and  Miss  Walton's  society  is  the  best  tonic  I 
know  of." 

"  Very  well,"  said  she,  laughing.  "  You  shall  take 
me  this  afternoon  as  a  continuation  of  the  tonic 


AN  A  CCIDENT  IN  THE  MO  UN TA INS.          1 8 7 

treatment  under  which  you  say  you  are  inru 
proving." 

"  To  carry  on  the  medical  figure,"  he  replied,  "  I 
fear  that  I  am  to  you  the  embodiment  of  the  deple 
tive  system." 

"  From  my  feelings  this  bright  morning  you  have 
very  little  effect.  I  prescribe  for  you  a  quiet  fore 
noon,  as  our  mountain  roads  will  give  you  an  awful 
jolting.  You,  if  not  your  medicine,  will  be  well 
shaken  to-day." 

"  You  are  my  medicine,  as  I  understand  it,  so  I 
shall  take  it  according  to  the  old  orthodox  couplet." 

"  No,  the  mountain  is  your  medicine,  and  I  anti 
cipate  no  earthquakes." 

"  It  is  settled  then,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  smiling, 
"  that  you  adopt  Mahomet's  compromise  and  go  to 
the  mountain.  I  will  tell  Jeff  to  fit  you  out  in  suit 
able  style." 

Gregory,  in  excellent  spirits,  retired  to  his  room 
for  a  quiet  morning.  The  prospect  for  the  afternoon 
pleased  him  greatly,  and  along  tete-a-tete  with  Annie 
among  the  grand  and  beautiful  solitudes  of  nature 
had  for  him  an  attraction  that  he  could  scarcely 
understand. 

"  She  is  just  the  one  for  a  companion  on  such  an 
expedition,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  She  seems  a  part 
of  the  scenes  we  shall  look  upon.  The  free,  strong 
mountain  spirit  breathes  in  her  every  word  and  act. 
Old  Greek  mythology  would  certainly  make  her  a 
Aymph  of  the  hills." 

After  dinner  they  started,  Gregory's  interest  cen- 


1 88  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

tring  mainly  in  his  companion,  but  Annie  regarding 
him  as  a  mere  accessory  to  a  sort  of  half-holiday  in 
her  busy  life,  and  expecting  more  enjoyment  from 
the  scenery  and  the  exhilarating  air  than  from  his 
best  efforts  to  entertain  her.  And  yet  in  this  respect 
she  was  agreeably  disappointed.  Gregory  was  in  a 
mood  that  he  scarcely  understood  himself.  If  Annie 
had  been  somewhat  vain  and  shallow,  though  pos 
sessing  many  other  good  traits,  with  the  practised 
skill  of  a  society  man  he  would  have  made  the  most 
of  these  weaknesses,  amused  himself  with  a  piquant 
flirtation,  and  soon  have  been  ready  for  his  depart 
ure  for  New  York  with  a  contemptuous  French 
shrug  at  the  whole  affair.  But  her  weaknesses  did 
not  lie  in  that  direction.  Her  naturally  truthful  and 
earnest  nature,  deepened  and  strengthened  by  Chris 
tian  principle,  from  the  first  had  foiled  his  unworthy 
purposes,  and  disturbed  his  contemptuous  cynicism. 
Then  as  he  was  compelled  to  believe  in  her  reality, 
her  truth  and  nobleness,  all  that  was  in  his  own 
nature  responsive  to  these  traits  began  to  assert 
itself.  Even  while  he  clung  to  it  and  felt  that  he  had 
no  power  to  escape  it,  the  evil  of  his  life  grew  more 
hateful  to  him,  and  he  condemned  himself  with 
increasing  bitterness.  When  good  influences  are 
felt  in  a  man's  soul,  evil  seems  to  become  specially 
active.  The  kingdom  of  darkness  disputes  every 
inch  of  its  ill-gotten  power.  Winter  passes  away  in 
March  storms.  It  is  the  still  cold  of  indifference 
that  is  nearest  akin  to  death. 

The  visit  to  his  old  home,  and  the  influence    of 


AN  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS.          189 

Annie  Walton,  were  creating  March  weather  in  Wal 
ter  Gregory's  soul.  There  were  a  few  genial  moods 
like  gleams  of  early  spring  sunshine.  There  were 
sudden  relentings  and  passionate  longings  for  better 
life,  as  at  times  gentle,  frost-relaxing  showers  soften 
the  flinty  ground.  There  were  fierce  spiritual  con 
flicts,  wild  questionings,  doubts,  fears,  and  forebod 
ings,  and  sometimes  despair,  as,  in  this  gusty  month 
nature  often  seems  resolving  itself  back  to  primeval 
chaos.  But  too  often  his  mood  was  that  of  cold 
hard  scepticism,  the  frost  of  midwinter.  The  impetus 
of  his  evil  life  would  evidently  be  long  in  spending 
itself. 

And  yet  the  quiet  influence  of  the  hallowed  Sab 
bath  evening,  and  Annie  Walton's  hymns  of  faith 
and  love,  could  not  readily  be  lost.  The  father's 
prayer  still  echoed  in  his  soul,  and  even  to  him  it 
seemed  that  the  heavens  could  not  be  deaf  to  such 
entreaty.  These  things  affected  him  as  no  direct 
appeals  possibly  could.  They  were  like  the  gentle 
but  irresistible  south  wind. 

He  was  now  simply  drifting.  He  had  not  defin 
itely  abandoned  his  purpose  of  tempting  Annie,  nor 
did  he  consciously  thrust  it  from  him.  Quite  con 
vinced  that  she  was  what  she  seemed,  and  doubting 
greatly  whether  during  his  brief  visit  there  would  be 
time  to  affect  her  mind  seriously  by  any  evil  influ 
ences  he  could  bring  to  bear,  and  won  unwittingly 
by  her  pure  spirit  to  better  things  himself,  he  let  the 
new  and  unexpected  influence  have  full  play. 

He  was  like  a  man  who  finds  himself  in  the  cur* 


190  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

rent  above  Niagara,  and  gives  up  in  despair,  allow* 
ing  his  boat  to  glide  onward  to  the  fatal  plunge.  A 
breeze  springs  up  and  blows  against  the  current.  He 
spreads  a  sail  and  finds  his  downward  progress 
checked.  If  the  wind  increases  and  blows  steadily, 
he  may  stem  the  rushing  tide  and  reach  smooth,  safe 
waters. 

A  faint  glimmering  of  hope  began  to  dawn  in  his 
heart.  An  unexpected  gale  from  heaven,  blowing 
against  the  current  of  evil,  made  it  seem  possible 
that  he  too  might  gain  the  still  waters  of  a  peaceful 
faith.  But  the  hope  dwelt  in  his  mind  more  as  a 
passing  thought,  a  possibility,  than  an  expectation. 

In  his  wavering  state  the  turn  of  the  scales  would 
depend  mainly  upon  the  mood  of  his  companion. 
If  she  had  been  trifling  and  inclined  to  flirt,  full  of 
frivolous  nonsense,  bent  upon  having  a  good  time 
in  the  frequent  acceptation  of  the  phrase,  little  reck 
ing  the  consequences  of  words  or  acts,  as  is  often  the 
case  with  girls  in  the  main  good-hearted  and  well- 
meaning,  Gregory  would  have  fallen  in  with  such  a 
mood  and  pushed  it  to  the  extreme. 

But  Annie  was  simply  herself,  bright  and  exhila 
rating  as  the  October  sunshine,  but  as  pure  and 
strong.  She  was  ready  for  jest  and  repartee.  She 
showed  almost  a  childish  delight  in  every  odd  and 
pretty  thing  that  met  her  eye,  but  never  for  a  moment 
permitted  her  companion  to  lose  respect  for  her. 

Her  cheeks  were  like  the  crimson  maple-leaves 
which  overhung  them.  Her  eyes  were  like  the  dark 
sparkle  of  the  little  brook  as  it  emerged  from  the 


AH  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS.          19* 

causeway  over  which  they  drove.  Her  brown  hair, 
tossed  by  the  wind,  escaped  somewhat  from  its 
restraints  and  enhanced  the  whiteness  of  her  neck, 
and  the  thought  occurred  to  Gregory  more  than 
once,  "  If  she  is  not  pretty,  I  never  saw  a  face  more 
pleasant  to  look  at." 

The  wish  to  gain  her  esteem  and  friendship  grew 
stronger  every  moment,  and  he  exerted  himself  to 
the  utmost  to  please  her.  Abandoning  utterly  his 
gallantry,  his  morbid  cynicism,  he  came  out  into  the 
honest  sunlight  of  truth,  where  Annie's  mind  dwelt, 
and  directed  the  conversation  to  subjects  concerning 
which,  as  an  educated  and  travelled  man,  he  could 
speak  frankly  and  intelligently.  Annie  had  strong 
social  tastes  and  the  fondness  for  companionship 
natural  to  the  young,  and  she  was  surprised  to  find 
how  he  stimulated  and  interested  her  mind,  and  how 
much  they  had  in  common.  He  appeared  to  under 
stand  her  immediately,  and  to  lead  her  thoughts  to 
new  and  exciting  flights. 

It  was  their  purpose,  to  cross  a  spur  of  the  main 
mountain-range.  After  a  long  and  toilsome  climb, 
stopping  to  give  Dolly  many  a  breathing  spell,  they 
at  last  reached  the  brow  of  the  wooded  height,  and 
turned  to  look  at  the  autumn  landscape  glimmering 
in  the  bright  October  sunshine.  It  is  impossible  by 
either  pen  or  brush  to  give  a  true  picture  of  wide 
reaches  of  broken  and  beautiful  country,  as  seen 
from  some  of  the  more  favored  points  of  outlook 
among  the  Highlands  on  the  Hudson.  The  loveli 
ness  of  a  pretty  bit  of  scenery  or  of  a  landscape  may 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

be  enhanced  by  art,  but  the  impressive  grandeur  of 
nature,  when  the  feature  of  vast  and  varied  expanse 
predominates,  cannot  be  adequately  expressed.  The 
mind  itself  is  oppressed  by  the  extensiveness  of  the 
scene,  and  tends  to  select  some  definite  object,  as  a  vil 
lage,  hamlet,  or  tree-embowered  farm-house,  on  which 
to  dwell.  These  accord  more  with  the  finite  nature  of 
the  beholder.  Spires  and  curling  wreaths  of  smoke 
suggested  to  Annie  and  Gregory  many  a  simple  altar 
and  quiet  hearth,  around  which  gathered  the  homely, 
contented  life,  spiritual  and  domestic,  of  those  who 
occupied  their  own  little  niche  in  the  great  world, 
and  were  all  unburdened  with  thought  or  care  for 
the  indefinite  regions  that  stretched  away  beyond 
their  narrow  circle  of  daily  acquaintance.  Only  God 
can  give  to  the  whole  of  His  creation  the  all-seeing 
gaze  that  we  bestow  upon  some  familiar  scene.  His 
glance  around  the  globe  is  like  that  of  a  mother 
around  her  nursery,  with  her  little  children  grouped 
at  her  feet. 

The  laden  orchards,  with  men  climbing  long  lad 
ders,  and  boys  in  the  topmost  branches  looking  in 
the  distance  like  huge  squirrels,  were  pleasant  objects 
to  the  mountain  ramblers.  Huskers  could  be  dis 
cerned  in  the  nearer  cornfields,  and  the  great  yellow 
ears  glistened  momentarily  in  the  light,  as  they  were 
tossed  into  golden  heaps.  There  was  no  hum  of 
industry  as  from  a  manufacturing  village,  or  roar  of 
turbulent  life  as  from  a  city,  but  only  the  quiet  evi 
dence  to  the  eye  of  a  life  kindred  to  that  which 
nature  so  silently  and  beautifully  elaborates. 


AN  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS.          193 

"  How  insignificant  we  are  ! "  said  Gregory,  gloom 
ily  ;  "how  the  great  world  goes  right  on  without  us! 
It  is  the  same  when  one  dies  and  leaves  it,  as  we  left 
it  by  climbing  this  mountain.  In  the  main  we  are 
unknown  and  uncared  for,  and  even  to  those  who 
know  us  it  is  soon  the  same  as  if  we  had  never 
been." 

"But  the  world  cannot  go  on  without  God. 
Though  forgotten,  He  never  forgets  !  His  friends 
need  never  have  the  sense  of  being  lost  or  lonely, — 
any  more  than  a  child  travelling  with  his  father  in  a 
foreign  land  among  indifferent  strangers.  God  does 
not  look  at  us,  His  creatures,  as  we  do  at  the  foliage 
of  these  forests,  seeing  only  the  general  effect.  He 
sees  each  one  as  directly  as  I  now  look  at  you." 

"  I  wish  I  could  believe  He  looked  as  kindly." 

"  I  wish  you  could,  Mr.  Gregory.  It  is  sad  to  me 
that  people  can't  believe  what  is  so  true.  The  fond 
est  look  your  mother  ever  gave  you  was  cold  com 
pared  with  the  yearning,  loving  face  God  turns 
toward  every  one  of  us,  even  as  we  go  away  from 
Him." 

He  looked  at  her  earnestly  for  a  moment  and  saw 
that  sincerity  was  written  on  her  face.  He  shook 
his  head  sadly,  and  then  said,  rather  abruptly,  "Those 
lengthening  shadows  remind  us  that  we  must  be  on 
our  way  ;  "  and  then  their  thoughts  dwelt  on  lighter 
subjects  as  they  ascended  another  lofty  mountain 
terrace,  and  paused  again  to  scan  the  wider  prospect 
that  made  the  sense  of  daily  life  in  the  valleys  below 
as  remote  as  the  world  seems  to  the  hermit  in  his 


IQ4  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

devotional  seclusion.  Then  they  began  to  descend 
the  sloping  plateau  which  inclined  toward  the  brow 
of  the  hill  overlooking  the  region  of  the  Walton  res 
idence. 

After  one  or  two  hours  of  broken  but  very  agreea 
ble  conversation  Annie  suddenly  sighed  deeply. 

"Now,  Miss  Walton,"  said  Gregory,  "that  sigh 
came  from  the  depths.  What  hidden  sorrow  could 
have  caused  it?" 

With  a  slight  flush  and  laugh,  she  said,  "  It  was 
caused  by  a  mere  passing  thought,  like  that  cloud 
there  sailing  over  the  mountain  slope." 

"  Your  simile  is  so  pretty  that  I  should  like  to  know 
the  thought." 

"  I  hardly  know  whether  to  tell  it  to  you.  It 
might  have  the  same  effect  as  if  that  cloud  should 
expand  and  cover  the  sky." 

"  Might  not  the  telling  also  have  the  same  effect 
as  if  the  cloud  were  dissipated  altogether  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  quickly  and  said,  "  How  apt 
your  answer  is  !  Yes,  it  might  if  you  would  be 
sensible.  I  do  not  know  you  so  very  well  yet.  Are 
you  not  a  little  ready  to  take  offence?" 

"  You  do  not  look  as  if  about  to  say  anything  I 
should  resent  very  deeply.  But  I  promise  that  the 
cloud  shall  vanish." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  about  that.  The  cloud  repre 
sents  my  thought ;  and  yet  I  hope  it  may  eventually 
vanish  utterly.  The  thought  occurred  to  me  after 
the  pleasant  hours  of  this  afternoon  what  congenial 
friends  we  might  be." 


AN  A  CCIDENT  IN  THE  MO  UNTA INS.  1 95 

"  And  that  caused  you  to  sigh  so  deeply  ?  " 

"  I  laid  emphasis  on  the  word  might"' 

"  And  why  should  you,  Miss  Annie  ?  Why  need 
you  ?  "  he  asked,  eagerly. 

"  You  have  shown  a  great  deal  of  tact  and  con 
sideration  this  afternoon,  Mr.  Gregory,  in  choosing 
topics  on  which  we  could  agree,  or  about  which  it  is 
as  nice  to  differ  a  little.  I  wish  it  were  the  same  in 
regard  to  those  things  that  make  up  one's  life,  as  it 
were ; "  and  she  looked  at  him  closely  to  see  how 
he  would  take  this. 

After  a  moment  he  said,  a  little  bitterly,  "  In 
order  to  be  your  friend,  must  one  look  at  everything 
through  the  same  colored  glass  that  you  em 
ploy  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,"  she  replied,  earnestly;  "it  is  not  fair  to 
say  that.  But  you  seem  almost  hostile  to  all  that  I 
love  best  and  think  most  of,  and  my  sigh  was 
rather  an  earnest  and  oft-recurring  wish  that  it  were 
otherwise." 

Again  he  was  silent  for  a  short  time,  then  said,  with 
sudden  vehemence,  "  And  I  also  wish  it  were  other 
wise  ; "  adding  more  quietly,  "  but  it  is  not,  Miss 
Walton.  You  know  me  too  well,  even  if  I  wished 
to  deceive  you.  And  yet  I  would  give  a  great  deal 
for  such  a  friendship  as  you  could  bestow.  Why 
can  you  not  give  it  as  it  is  ?  The  Founder  of  your 
faith  was  a  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners." 

"  He  was  indeed  their  friend,  and  has  been  ever 
since,"  she  answered.  "  But  was  it  not  natural  that 
He  found  more  that  was  attractive  and  congenial  in 


196  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

that  little  group  of  disciples  who  were  learning  to 
know  and  believe  in  Him?  " 

"  I  understand  you,  Miss  Walton.  I  was  unfor 
tunate  in  my  illustration,  and  you  have  turned  it 
against  me.  You  can  be  my  friend,  as  the  missionary 
is  the  friend  of  the  heathen." 

"  You  go  to  extremes,  Mr.  Gregory,  and  are  hard- 
ly  fair.  I  am  not  a  missionary,  nor  are  you  a 
heathen.  I  make  my  meaning  clear  when  I  echo 
your  thought  of  a  moment  ago,  and  wish  that  just 
such  a  friendship  might  exist  between  us  as  that 
between  your  father  and  mine." 

"  I  am  what  I  am,"  he  said,  with  genuine  sadness. 

"  I  wish  you  had  my  faith  in  the  possibilities  of 
the  future,"  she  replied,  turning  brightly  toward 
him. 

But  he  shook  his  head,  saying,  "  I  have  about  lost 
all  faith  in  everything  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  Still 
I  feel  that  if  any  one  could  do  me  any  good,  you 
might,  but  I  fear  it  is  a  hopeless  task."  Then  he 
changed  the  subject  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  that 
it  was  painful,  and  that  he  preferred  it  should  be 
dropped. 

After  all,  the  cloud  had  overcast  the  sky.  The  in 
evitable  separation  between  those  guided  by  divine 
principles  and  those  controlled  by  earthly  influences 
began  to  dawn  upon  him.  He  caught  a  glimpse  of 
the  "  great  gulf,"  that  is  ever  "  fixed  "  between  the 
good  and  evil  in  their  deepest  consciousness.  The 
"  loneliness  of  guilt "  chilled  and  oppressed  him, 
even  with  the  cheery,  sympathetic  companion  at  his 


AN  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS.  197 

side.  But  he  hid  his  feelings  under  a  forced  gayety, 
in  which  Annie  joined  somewhat,  though  it  gave  her 
a  vague  shiver  of  pain.  She  felt  they  had  been  en 
rapport  for  a  little  while,  but  now  a  change  had 
come,  even  as  the  damp  and  chill  of  approaching 
night  were  taking  the  place  of  the  genial  sunshine. 

Suddenly  she  said,  as  they  were  riding  along  on 
the  comparatively  level  plateau  among  thick  copse, 
wood  and  overshadowing  trees  that  already  created 
a  premature  twilight,  "  It  is  strange  we  do  not  come 
out  on  the  brow  of  the  mountain  overlooking  our 
home.  This  road  does  not  seem  familiar  either, 
though  it  is  two  or  three  years  since  I  have  been 
over  it,  and  then  Jeff  drove.  I  thought  I  knew  the 
way  well.  Can  it  be  possible  we  have  taken  the 
wrong  turning?" 

"  I  ought  to  be  familiar  with  these  roads,  Miss 
Walton,  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  too  am  confused.  I 
hunted  over  these  hills  to  some  extent  when  a  boy, 
but  did  not  pay  much  heed  to  the  roads,  as  I  took 
my  own  courses  through  the  woods." 

"  I  think  I  must  be  right,"  said  Annie,  after  a 
little  time  ;  "  the  brow  of  the  hill  must  be  near  ;  " 
and  they  hastened  the  old  horse  along  as  fast  as 
possible  under  the  circumstances.  But  the  road  con 
tinually  grew  rougher  and  gave  evidence  of  very 
little  travel,  and  the  evening  deepened  rapidly.  At 
last  they  resolved  to  turn  round  at  the  first  place 
that  would  permit  of  it,  but  this  was  not  readily 
found,  there  being  only  a  single  wheel-track,  which 
now  stretched  away  before  them  like  a  narrow  cut 


198  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

between  banks  of  foliage,  that  looked  solid  in  the 
increasing  darkness  ;  the  road  also  was  full  of  rocks, 
loose  stones,  and  deep  ruts,  over  which  the  wagon 
jolted  painfully.  With  a  less  sure-footed  horse  than 
Dolly  they  would  soon  have  come  to  grief.  Gregory 
was  becoming  greatly  fatigued,  though  he  strove  to 
hide  it,  and  both  were  filled  with  genuine  uneasiness 
at  the  prospect  before  them.  To  make  matters 
seemingly  desperate,  as  they  were  descending  a  little 
hill  a  fore-wheel  caught  between  two  stones  and  was 
wrenched  sharply  off.  Quick,  agile  Annie  sprang 
as  she  felt  the  wagon  giving,  but  Walter  was  thrown 
out  among  the  brushwood  by  the  roadside.  Though 
scratched  and  bruised,  he  was  not  seriously  hurt, 
and  as  quickly  as  possible  came  to  the  assistance  of 
his  companion.  He  found  her  standing  by  Dolly's 
head,  holding  and  soothing  the  startled  beast.  Ap 
parently  she  was  unhurt.  They  looked  searchingly 
at  the  dusky  forest,  their  broken  vehicle,  and  then 
at  each  other.  Words  were  unnecessary  to  explain 
the  awkwardness  of  their  situation. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

"PROMISE    OR    DIE.*' 

WHILE  they  were  thus  standing  irresolute  after 
the  accident,  suddenly  a  light  glimmered  upon 
them.  It  appeared  to  come  from  a  house  standing 
a  little  off  from  the  road.  "  Shall  I  leave  you  here 
and  go  for  assistance  ?  "  asked  Walter. 

"  I  think  I  would  rather  go  with  you.  Dolly  will 
stand,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be  left  alone." 

They  soon  found  a  grassy  path  leading  to  a  small 
house,  from  which  the  light  shone  but  faintly 
through  closely  curtained  windows.  They  met  no 
one,  nor  were  their  footsteps  heard  till  they  knocked 
at  the  door.  A  gruff  voice  said,  "  Come  in,"  and  a 
huge  bull  dog  started  up  from  near  the  fire  with  a 
savage  growl. 

They  entered.  A  middle-aged  man  with  his  coat 
off  sat  at  work  with  his  back  toward  them.  He 
rose  hastily  and  stared  at  them  with  a  strangely 
blended  look  of  consternation  and  anger. 

"  Call  off  your  dog,"  said  Gregory,  sharply. 

"  Down,  Bull,"  said  the  man,  harshly,  and  the  dog 
slunk  growling  into  a  corner,  but  with  a  watchful, 
ugly  gleam  in  his  eyes. 


200  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

The  man's  expression  was  quite  as  sinister  and 
threatening. 

"  Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  want  ?  "  he  asked, 
sternly. 

"  We  v/ant  help,"  said  Gregory,  with  a  quickened 
and  apprehensive  glance  around,  which  at  once  re 
vealed  to  him  why  their  visit  was  so  unwelcome. 
The  man  had  been  counterfeiting  money,  and  the 
evidences  of  his  guilt  were  only  too  apparent.  "We 
have  lost  our  way,  and  our  wagon  is  broken.  I 
hope  you  have  sufficient  humanity  to  act  the  part 
of  a  neighbor." 

"  Humanity  to  the  devil !  "  said  the  man,  brutally, 
"  I  am  neighbor  to  no  one.  You  have  come  here  to 
pry  into  what  is  none  of  your  business." 

"  We  have  not,"  said  Gregory,  eagerly.  "  You 
will  find  our  broken  wagon  in  the  road  but  a  little 
way  from  here." 

The  man's  eye  was  cold,  hard,  and  now  had  a 
snake-like  glitter  as  he  looked  at  them  askance  with 
a  gloomy  scowl.  He  seemed  thinking  over  the 
situation  in  which  he  found  himself. 

Gregory,  in  his  weak,  exhausted  state,  and  shaken 
somewhat  by  his  fall,  was  nervous  and  apprehensive. 
Annie,  though  pale,  stood  firmly  and  quietly  by. 

Slowly  and  hesitatingly,  as  if  deliberating  as  to 
the  best  course,  the  man  reached  up  to  the  shelf 
and  took  down  a  revolver,  saying,  with  an  evil-bod 
ing  look  at  them,  "  If  I  thought  you  had  come  as 
detectives,  you  would  have  no  chance  to  use  your 
knowledge.  You,  sir,  I  do  not  know,  but  I  think 


"PROMISE  OR  DIE."  201 

this  lady  is  Squire  Walton's  daughter.  As  it  is,  you 
must  both  solemnly  promise  me  before  God  that 
you  will  never  reveal  what  you  have  seen  here. 
Otherwise  I  have  but  one  method  of  self-protec 
tion,"  and  he  cocked  his  pistol.  "  Let  me  tell  you," 
he  added,  in  a  blood-curdling  tone,  "you  are  not 
the  first  ones  I  have  silenced.  And  mark  this — if 
you  go  away  and  break  this  promise,  I  have  con 
federates  who  will  take  vengeance  on  you  and 
yours." 

"  No  need  of  any  further  threats,"  said  Gregory, 
with  a  shrug.  "  I  promise.  As  you  say,  it  is  none 
of  my  business  how  much  of  the  *  queer*  you 
make." 

Though  naturally  not  a  coward,  Gregory,  in  his 
habit  of  self-pleasing  and  of  shunning  all  sources  of 
annoyance,  would  not  have  gone  out  of  his  way 
under  any  circumstances  to  bring  a  criminal  to 
justice,  and  the  thought  of  risking  anything  in  this 
case  did  not  occur  to  him.  Why  should  they  peril 
their  lives  for  the  good  of  the  commonwealth?  If 
he  had  been  alone  and  escaped  without  further 
trouble,  he  would  have  thought  of  the  matter  after 
ward  as  of  a  crime  recorded  in  the  morning  paper,, 
with  which  he  had  no  concern,  except  perhaps 
to  scrutinize  more  sharply  the  currency  he  received. 

But  with  conscientious  Annie  it  was  very  differ 
ent.  Her  father  was  a  magistrate  of  the  right  kind, 
who  sincerely  sought  to  do  justice  and  protect  the 
people  in  their  rights.  From  almost  daily  conver 
sation  her  mind  had  been  impressed  with  the  sacred- 


202  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

ness  of  the  law.  When  she  was  inclined  to  induce 
her  father  to  give  a  lighter  sentence  than  he  believed 
right  he  had  explained  how  the  well-being  and 
indeed  the  very  existence  of  society  depended  upon 
the  righteous  enforcement  of  the  law,  and  how  true 
mercy  lay  in  such  enforcement.  She  had  been 
made  to  feel  that  the  responsibility  for  good  order 
and  morals  rested  on  every  one,  and  that  to  conceal 
a  known  crime  was  to  share  deeply  in  the  guilt.  She 
also  was  not  skilled  in  that  casuistry  which  would 
enable  her  to  promise  anything  with  mental  reserva 
tions.  The  shock  of  their  savage  and  threatening 
reception  had  been  severe,  but  she  was  not  at  all  in 
clined  to  be  hysterical ;  and  though  her  heart 
seemed  to  stand  still  with  a  chill  of  dread  which 
deepened  every  moment  as  she  realized  what  would 
be  exacted  of  her,  she  seemed  more  self-possessed 
than  Gregory.  Indeed,  in  the  sudden  and  awful 
emergencies  of  life,  woman's  fortitude  is  often 
superior  to  man's,  and  Annie's  faith  was  no  decorous 
and  conventional  profession  for  Sabbath  uses,  but  a 
constant  and  living  reality.  She  was  like  the 
maidens  of  martyr  days,  who  tremblingly  but  un 
hesitatingly  died  for  conscience'  sake.  While  there 
was  no  wavering  of  purpose,  there  was  an  agony  of 
fear  and  sorrow,  as,  after  the  momentary  confusion 
of  mind  caused  by  the  suddenness  of  the  occurrence, 
the  terrible  nature  of  the  ordeal  before  her  became 
evident. 

Through  her  father  she  had  heard  a  vague  rumor 
of  this  man  before.     Though  he  lived  so  secluded 


"PROMISE  OR  DIE."  203 

and  was  so  reticent,  his  somewhat  mysterious  move 
ments  had  awakened  suspicion.  But  his  fierce  dog 
and  his  own  manner  had  kept  all  obtrusive  curiosity 
at  a  distance.  Now  she  saw  her  father's  worst  fear? 
and  surmises  realized. 

But  the  counterfeiter  at  first  gave  all  his  attention 
to  her  companion,  thinking  that  he  would  have  little 
trouble  with  a  timid  girl ;  and  after  Gregory's  ready 
promise,  looked  searchingly  at  him  for  a  moment, 
and  then  said,  with  a  coarse,  scornful  laugh,  "  No 
fear  of  you.  You  will  keep  your  skin  whole.  You 
are  a  city  chap,  and  know  enough  of  me  and  my 
tribe  to  be  sure  I  can  strike  you  there  as  well  as 
here.  I  can  trust  to  your  fears,  and  don't  wish  to 
shed  blood  when  it  is  unnecessary.  And  now  this 
girl  must  make  the  same  promise.  Her  father  is  a 
magistrate,  and  I  intend  to  have  no  posse  of  men  up 
here  after  me  to-morrow." 

"  I  can  make  no  such  promise,"  said  Annie,  in  a 
low  tone. 

"What?"  exclaimed  the  man,  harshly,  and  a 
savage  growl  from  the  dog  made  a  kindred  echo  to 
his  tone. 

Deathly  pale,  but  with  firm  bearing,  Annie  said, 
"  I  cannot  promise  to  shield  crime  by  silence.  I 
should  be  a  partaker  in  your  guilty  secrets." 

"  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  promise  !  "  cried  Gregory,  in 
an  agony  of  fear,  but  in  justice  it  must  be  said  that 
it  was  more  for  her  than  for  himself. 

"  For  God's  sake  I  cannot  promise." 

The  man  stepped  menacingly  toward  her,  and  the 


204  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

great  dog  also  advanced  unchecked  out  of  his 
corner. 

"Young  woman,"  he  hissed  in  her  ear,  "you  must 
promise  or  die.  I  have  sworn  never  to  go  to  prison 
again  if  I  wade  knee-deep  in  blood." 

There  came  a  rush  of  tears  to  Annie's  eyes.  Her 
bosom  heaved  convulsively  a  moment,  and  then  she 
said,  in  a  tone  of  agony,  "  It  is  dreadful  to  die  in 
such  a  way,  but  I  cannot  make  the  promise  you  ask. 
It  would  burden  my  conscience  and  blight  my  life. 
I  will  trust  to  God's  mercy  and  do  right.  But  think 
twice  before  you  shed  my  innocent  blood." 

Gregory  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and 
groaned  aloud. 

The  man  hesitated.  He  had  evidently  hoped  by 
his  threats  to  frighten  her  into  compliance,  and  her 
unexpected  refusal,  while  it  half  frenzied  him  with 
fear  and  anger,  made  his  course  difficult  to  deter- 
mine  upon.  He  was  not  quite  hardened  enough  to 
slay  the  defenceless  girl  as  she  stood  so  bravely  be 
fore  him,  and  the  killing  of  her  would  also  involve 
the  putting  of  Gregory  out  of  the  way,  making  a 
double  murder  that  would  be  hard  to  conceal.  He 
looked  at  the  dog,  and  the  thought  occurred  that 
by  turning  them  out  of  doors  and  leaving  them  to 
the  brute's  tender  mercies  their  silence  might  be 
effectually  secured. 

It  is  hard  to  say  what  he  would  have  done,  left  to 
his  own  fears  and  evil  passions ;  but  a  moment  after 
Annie  had  spoken,  the  door  opened  and  a  woman 
entered  with  a  pail  of  water,  which  she  had  just 


"PROMISE  OR  DIE."  205 

brought  from  a  spring  at  some  little  distance  from 
the  house. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  quick, 
startled  glance  around. 

"  It  means  mischief  to  all  concerned,"  said  the 
man,  sullenly. 

"  This  is  Miss  Walton,"  said  the  woman,  advanc 
ing. 

"  Yes,"  exclaimed  Annie,  and  she  rushed  forward 
and  sobbed  out,  "  save  me  from  your  husband ;  he 
threatened  to  take  my  life." 

" '  My  husband ! '  "  said  the  woman,  with  intense 
bitterness,  turning  toward  the  man.  "  Do  you  hear 
that,  Vight  ?  Quiet  your  fears,  young  lady.  Do  you 
remember  the  sick,  weary  woman  that  you  found 
one  hot  day  last  summer  by  the  roadside  ?  I  was 
faint,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  dying.  I 
often  wish  to,  but  when  it  comes  to  the  point  and  I 
look  over  into  the  black  gulf,  I'm  afraid — " 

"  But,  woman — "  interrupted  the  man,  harshly. 

"  Be  still,"  she  said,  imperiously  waving  her  hand. 
"Don't  rouse  a  devil  you  can't  control."  Then 
turning  to  Annie,  she  continued,  "  I  was  afraid 
then  ;  I  was  in  an  agony  of  terror.  I  was  so  weak 
that  I  could  scarcely  do  more  than  look  appealingly 
to  you  and  stretch  out  my  hands.  Most  ladies 
would  have  said,  '  She's  drunk,'  and  passed  con 
temptuously  on.  But  you  got  out  of  your  wagon 
and  took  my  cold  hand.  I  whispered,  'I'm  sick; 
for  God's  sake  help  me.'  And  you  believed  me  and 
said, '  I  will  help  you,  for  God's  sake  and  your  own.1 


206  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Then  you  went  to  the  carnage,  and  got  some  cordial 
which  you  said  was  for  another  sick  person,  and 
gave  me  some  ;  and  when  I  revived,  you  half  carried 
me  and  half  lifted  me  into  your  nice  covered  little 
u'agon,  that  kept  the  burning  sun  off  my  head,  and 
you  took  me  miles  out  of  your  way  to  a  little  house 
which  I  falsely  told  you  was  my  home.  I  heard 
that  you  afterwards  came  to  see  me.  You  spoke 
kindly.  When  I  could  speak  I  said  that  I  was  not 
fit  for  you  to  touch,  and  you  answered  that  Jesus 
Christ  was  glad  to  help  and  touch  any  human 
creature,  and  that  you  were  not  better  than  He ! 
Then  you  told  me  a  little  about  Him,  but  I  was  too 
sick  to  listen  much.  God  knows  I've  got  down 
about  as  low  as  any  woman  can.  I  dare  not  pray 
for  myself,  but  since  that  day  I've  prayed  for  you. 
And  mark  what  I  say,  Vight,"  she  added,  her  sad, 
weird  manner  changing  to  sudden  fierceness,  "not a 
hair  of  this  lady's  head  shall  be  hurt." 

"  But  these  two  will  go  and  blab  on  us,"  said  the 
man,  angrily.  "  At  least  the  girl  will.  She  won't 
promise  to  keep  our  secret.  I  have  no  fears  for  the 
man ;  I  can  keep  him  quiet." 

"Why  v/on't  you  promise?"  asked  the  woman, 
gently,  but  with  surprise. 

"  Because  I  cannot,"  said  Annie,  earnestly,  though 
her  voice  was  still  broken  by  sobs.  "  When  we  hide 
crime,  we  take  part  in  it." 

"And  would  you  rather  die  than  do  what  you 
thought  wrong  ?  " 

"  It  were  better,"  said  Annie. 


"PROMISE  OR  DIE."  207 

"  Oh  that  I  had  had  such  a  spirit  in  the  fatal 
past !  "  groaned  the  woman. 

"But  won't  you  protect  me  still?"  exclaimed 
Annie,  seizing  her  hand.  "  It  would  kill  my  poor 
old  father  too,  if  I  should  die.  I  cannot  burden  my 
soul  with  your  secrets,  but  save  me — oh,  ^save  me, 
from  so  dreadful  a  death  !  " 

"  I  have  said  it,  Miss  Walton.  Not  a  hair  of 
your  head  shall  be  hurt." 

"  What  do  you  advise  then,  madam  ?  "  asked  the 
man,  satirically.  "Shall  we  invite  Mr.  Walton  and 
the  sheriff  up  to-morrow  to  take  a  look  at  the  room 
as  it  now  stands  ?  " 

"  I  advise  nothing,"  said  the  woman,  harshly.  "  I 
only  say,  in  a  way  you  understand,  not  a  hair  of 
this  girl's  head  shall  be  hurt." 

"Thank  God,  oh,  thank  God,"  murmured  Annie, 
with  a  feeling  of  confidence  and  inexpressible  relief, 
for  there  was  that  in  the  woman's  bearing  and  tone 
which  gave  evidence  of  unusual  power  over  her  asso 
ciate  in  crime. 

Then  Annie  added,  still  clinging  to  a  hand  un- 
sanctified  by  the  significant  plain  ring,  "  I  hope  you 
will  keep  my  companion  safe  from  harm  also." 

During  the  scene  between  Annie  and  her  strange 
protector,  who  was  evidently  a  sad  wreck  of  a  beauti 
ful  and  gifted  woman,  Gregory  had  sunk  into  a  chair 
through  weakness  and  shame,  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands. 

The  woman  turned  toward  him  with  instinctive 
antipathy,  and  asked,  "  How  is  it,  sir,  you  have  left 
a  young  girl  to  meet  this  danger  alone?" 


208  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Gregory's  white,  drawn  face  turned  scarlet  as  he 
answered,  "  Because  I  am  like  you  and  this  man 
here,  and  not  like  Miss  Walton,  who  is  an  angel  of 
truth  and  goodness." 

"  '  Like  us!  indeed  !  "  said  she,  disdainfully.  "  I 
don't  know  that  you  have  proved  us  cowards  yet. 
And  could  you  be  bad  and  mean  enough  to  see  this 
brave  maiden  slain  before  your  eyes,  and  go  away  in 
silence  to  save  your  own  miserable  self?" 

"  For  aught  I  know  I  could,"  answered  he, 
savagely.  "  I  would  like  to  see  what  mean,  horrible, 
loathsome  thing,  this  hateful,  hated  thing  I  call  my 
self  could  not  do." 

Gregory  showed,  in  a  way  fearful  to  witness,  what 
intense  hostility  and  loathing  a  spirit  naturally 
noble  can  feel  toward  itself  when  action  and  con 
science  are  at  war. 

"Ah, "said  the  woman,  bitterly,  "now  you  speak 
a  language  I  know  well.  Why  should  I  fear  the 
judgment-day?"  she  added,  with  a  gloomy  light  in 
her  eyes,  as  if  communing  with  herself.  "  Nothing 
worse  can  be  said  of  me  than  I  will  say  now.  But," 
she  sneered,  turning  sharply  to  Gregory,  "  I  do  not 
think  I  have  fallen  so  low  as  you." 

"  Probably  not,"  he  replied,  with  a  grim  laugh, 
and  a  significant  shrug  which  he  had  learned  abroad. 
"  I  will  not  dispute  my  bad  pre-eminence.  Come, 
Vight,  or  whatever  your  name  is,"  he  continued,  ris 
ing,  "  make  up  your  mind  quickly  what  you  are 
going  to  do.  I  am  a  weak  man,  morally  and 
physically.  If  you  intend  to  shoot  me,  or  let  your 


"PROMISE  OR  DIE."  209 

dog  make  a  meal  of  me,  let  us  have  it  over  as  soon 
as  possible.  Since  Miss  Walton  is  safe,  I  am  as  weH 
prepared  now  as  I  ever  shall  be.'* 

"  I  entreat  you,"  pleaded  Annie,  still  clinging  to 
the  woman,  "  don't  let  any  harm  come  to  him." 

"  What  is  the  use  of  touching  him  ? "  said  the 
man,  gruffly.  Then  turning  to  Gregory  he  asked, 
"  Do  you  still  promise  not  to  use  your  knowledge 
against  me  ?  You  might  do  me  more  harm  in  New 
York  than  here." 

"  I  have  promised  once,  and  that  is  enough,"  said 
Gregory,  irritably.  "  I  keep  my  word  for  good  or 
evil,  though  you  can't  know  that,  and  are  fools  for 
trusting  me." 

"  I'll  trust  neither  of  you,"  said  the  man,  with  an 
oath.  "  Here,  Dencie,  I  must  talk  with  you  alone. 
I'm  willing  to  do  anything  that's  reasonable,  but 
I'm  not  going  to  prison  again  alive,  mark  that " 
(with  a  still  more  fearful  imprecation).  "  Don't  leave 
this  room  or  I  won't  answer  for  the  consequences," 
he  said  sternly  to  Gregory  and  Annie,  at  the  same 
time  looking  significantly  at  the  dog. 

Then  he  and  the  woman  went  into  the  back 
room,  and  there  was  an  earnest  and  somewhat 
angry  consultation. 

Gregory  sat  down  and  leaned  his  head  on  the 
table  in  a  manner  that  showed  he  had  passed  be 
yond  despondency  and  fear  into  despairing  indiffer 
ence  as  to  what  became  of  him.  He  felt  that  hence 
forth  he  must  be  simply  odious  to  Miss  Walton, 
that  she  would  only  tolerate  his  presence  as  long  as 


210  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

it  was  necessary,  veiling  her  contempt  by  mere 
politeness.  In  his  shame  and  weakness  he  would 
almost  rather  die  than  meet  her  true,  honest  eyes 
again. 

Annie  had  the  courage  of  principle  and  firm 
resolve,  rather  than  that  which  is  natural  and 
physical.  The  thought  of  sudden  and  violent  death 
appalled  her.  If  her  impulsive  nature  were  excited, 
like  that  of  a  soldier  in  battle,  she  could  forget  dan 
ger.  If  in  her  bed  at  home  she  were  wasting  with 
disease,  she  would  soon  submit  to  the  Divine  will 
with  child-like  trust.  But  her  whole  being  shrunk 
inexpressibly  from  violent  and  unnatural  death. 
Never  before  did  life  seem  so  sweet.  Never  before 
was  there  so  much  to  live  for.  She  could  have  been 
a  martyr  in  any  age  and  in  any  horrible  form  for 
conscience'  sake,  but  she  would  have  met  her  fate 
tremblingly,  shrinkingly,  and  with  intense  longings 
for  life.  And  yet  with  all  this  instinctive  dread, 
her  trust  in  God  and  His  promises  would  not  fail. 
But  instead  of  standing  calmly  erect  on  her  faith, 
and  confronting  destiny,  it  was  her  nature,  in  such 
terrible,  emergencies,  to  cling  in  loving  and  utter 
dependence,  and  obey. 

She  therefore  in  no  respect  shared  Gregory's  in 
difference,  but  was  keenly  alive  to  the  situation. 

At  first,  with  her  hand  upon  her  heart  to  still  its 
wild  throbbings,  she  listened  intently,  and  tried  to 
catch  the  drift  of  the  fateful  conference  within. 
This  being  vain,  her  eyes  wandered  hurriedly  around 
the  room.  Standing  thus,  she  unconsciously  com- 


"PROMISE  OR  DIE."  211 

pleted  a  strange  picture  in  that  incongruous  place, 
with  her  dejected  companion  on  one  side,  and  the 
great  dog,  eying  her  savagely,  on  the  other. 
Gregory's  despairing  attitude  impressed  her  deeply. 
In  a  sudden  rush  of  pity  she  felt  that  he  was  not  as 
cowardly  as  he  had  seemed.  A  woman  with  diffi 
culty  forgives  this  sin.  His  harsh  condemnation 
and  evident  detestation  of  himself  impelled  her 
generous  nature  instinctively  to  take  the  part  of  his 
weak  and  wronged  spirit.  She  had  early  been 
taught  to  pity  rather  than  to  condemn  those  whom 
evil  is  destroying.  In  all  his  depravity  he  did  not 
repel  her,  for,  though  proud,  he  had  no  petty,  shal 
low  vanity ;  and  the  evident  fact  that  he  suffered  so 
deeply  disarmed  her. 

Moreover,  companionship  in  trouble  which  she 
felt  was  partly  her  fault,  drew  her  toward  him,  and, 
stepping  to  his  side,  she  laid  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder  and  said,  gently,  "Cheer  up,  my  friend;  I 
understand  you  better  than  you  do  yourself.  God 
will  bring  us  safely  through." 

He  shrunk  from  her  hand,  and  said,  drearily, 
"  With  better  reason  than  yonder  woman  I  can  say, 
'  I  am  not  fit  for  you  to  touch/  As  for  God,  He 
has  nothing  to  do  with  me." 

She  answered,  kindly,  "  I  do  not  think  that  either 
of  those  things  is  true.  But,  Mr.  Gregory,  what  will 
they  do  with  us  ?  They  will  not  dare — " 

She  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  strangely 
assorted  couple  into  whose  crime-stained  hands  they 
had  so  unexpectedly  fallen.  Both  felt  that  but  little 


212  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

trust  could  be  placed  in  such  perverted  and  passion, 
swept  natures, — that  they  would  be  guided  by  their 
fears,  impulses,  and  interests.  Annie's  main  hope 
was  in  the  hold  she  had  on  the  woman's  sympathies  ; 
but  the  latter,  as  she  entered,  wore  a  sullen  and 
disappointed  look,  as  if  she  had  not  been  given  her 
own  way.  Annie  at  once  stepped  to  her  side  and 
again  took  her  hand,  as  if  she  were  her  best  hope  of 
safety.  It  was  evident  that  her  confidence  and 
unshrinking  touch  affected  the  poor  creature  deeply, 
and  her  hand  closed  over  Annie's  in  a  way  that  was 
reassuring. 

"  I  suppose  you  would  scarcely  like  to  trust  your 
selves  to  me  or  my  dog,"  said  the  man,  with  a  grim 
laugh.  "  What's  more,  I've  no  time  to  bother  with 
you.  Since  my  companion  here  feels  she  owes  you 
something,  Miss  Walton,  she  can  now  repay  you  a 
hundred  fold.  But  follow  her  directions  closely,  as 
you  value  your  lives ;"  and  he  left  the  house  with 
the  dog.  Soon  after,  they  heard  in  the  forest  what 
seemed  the  note  of  the  whippoorwill  repeated  three 
times,  but  it  was  so  near  and  importunate  that 
Annie  was  startled,  and  the  woman's  manner  indi 
cated  that  she  was  not  listening  to  a  bird.  After  a 
few  moments  she  said,  gloomily :  "  Miss  Walton,  I 
promised  you  should  receive  no  harm,  and  I  will 
keep  my  word.  I  hoped  I  could  send  you  directly 
home  to-night,  but  that's  impossible.  I  can  do  much 
with  Vight,  but  not  everything.  He  has  sworn 
never  to  go  to  prison  again  alive,  and  none  of  our 
lives  would  be  worth  much  if  they  stood  in  the  way 


"PROMISE  OR  DIE."  a  13 

of  his  escape.  We  meant  to  leave  this  region 
before  many  months,  for  troublesome  stories  are 
getting  around,  and  now  we  must  go  at  once.  I  will 
take  you  to  a  place  of  safety,  from  which  you  can 
return  home  to-morrow.  Come." 

"  But  father  will  be  wild  with  anxiety,"  cried 
Annie,  wringing  her  hands. 

"  It  is  the  best  I  can  do,"  said  the  woman,  sadly. 
"  Come,  we  have  no  time  to  lose." 

She  put  on  a  woollen  hood,  and  taking  a  long, 
slender  staff,  led  the  way  out  into  the  darkness. 

They  felt  that  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  follow, 
which  they  did  in  silence.  They  did  not  go  back 
toward  their  broken  wagon,  but  continued  down  the 
wheel-track  whereon  their  accident  had  occurred. 
Suddenly  the  woman  left  this,  taking  a  path  through 
the  woods,  and  after  proceeding  with  difficulty  some 
distance,  stopped,  and  lighted  a  small  lantern  she 
had  carried  under  her  shawl.  Even  with  the  aid  of 
this  their  progress  was  painful  and  precarious  in  the 
steeply  descending  rocky  path,  which  had  so  many 
intricate  windings  that  both  Annie  and  Gregory 
felt  that  they  were  indeed  being  led  into  a  terra 
incognita.  Annie  was  consumed  with  anxiety  as  to 
the  issue  of  their  strange  adventure,  but  believed 
confidence  in  her  guide  to  be  the  wisest  course. 
Gregory  was  too  weary  and  indifferent  to  care  for 
himself,  and  stumbled  on  mechanically. 

At  last  he  said,  sullenly,  "  Madam,  I  can  go  no 
farther.  I  may  as  well  die  here  as  anywhere." 

"You  must  go,"  she  said,  sharply;  "for  my  sake 


a  14  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  Miss  Walton's,  if  not  for  your  own.  Besides, 
it's  not  much  farther.  What  I  do  to-night  must  be 
done  rightly." 

"Well,  then,  while  there  is  breath  left,  Miss 
Walton  shall  have  the  benefit  of  it." 

"  May  we  not  rest  a  few  minutes  ?  "  asked  Annie. 
"  I  too  am  very  tired." 

"  Yes,  before  long  at  the  place  where  you  must 
pass  the  night." 

The  path  soon  came  out  in  another  wheel-track, 
which  seemed  to  lead  down  a  deep  ravine.  Descend 
ing  this  a  little  way,  they  reached  an  opening  in 
which  was  the  dusky  outline  of  a  small  house. 

"  Here  we  part,"  said  their  guide,  taking  Annie's 
hand,  while  Gregory  sank  exhausted  on  a  rock  near. 
"  The  old  woman  and  her  son  who  live  in  that  house 
will  give  you  shelter,  and  to-morrow  you  must  find 
your  best  way  home.  This  seems  poor  return  for 
your  kindness,  but  it's  in  keeping  with  my  miserable 
life,  which  is  as  dark  and  wild  as  the  unknown  flinty 
path  we  came.  After  all,  things  have  turned  out 
far  better  than  they  might  have  done.  Vight  was 
expecting  some  one,  and  so  had  the  dog  within 
doors.  He  would  have  torn  you  to  pieces  had  he 
been  without  as  usual." 

"  Lead  this  life  no  longer.  Stay  with  us,  and  I 
will  help  you  to  better  things,"  said  Annie,  earnestly. 

The  look  of  intense  longing  on  the  woman's  face 
as  the  light  of  the  flickering  lantern  fell  on  it  would 
haunt  Annie  to  her  dying  day. 

"  Oh  that  I  might !  "  she  groaned.     "  Oh  that  I 


"PROMISE  OR  DIE."  215 

might!  A  more  fearful  bondage  never  cursed  a 
human  soul ! " 

"  And  why  can  you  not  ?  "  pleaded  Annie,  putting 
her  hand  on  the  trembling  woman's  shoulder.  "You 
have  seen  better  days.  You  were  meant  for  a  good 
and  noble  life.  You  can't  sin  unfeelingly.  Then 
why  sin  at  all  ?  Break  these  chains,  and  by  and  by 
peace  in  this  life  and  heaven  in  the  life  to  come  will 
reward  you." 

The  woman  sat  down  by  the  roadside,  and  for  a 
moment  her  whole  frame  seemed  convulsed  with 
sobs.  At  last  she  said,  brokenly,  "You  plead 
as  my  good  angel  did  before  it  left  me — but  it's  no 
use — it's  too  late.  I  have  indeed  seen  better  days, 
pure,  happy  days ;  and  so  has  he.  We  once  stood 
high  in  the  respect  of  all.  But  he  fell,  and  I  fell  in 
ways  I  can't  explain.  You  cannot  understand,  that 
as  love  binds  with  silken  cords,  so  crime  may  bind 
with  iron  chains.  No  more — say  no  more.  You 
only  torment  me,"  she  broke  in,  harshly,  as  Annie 
was  about  to  speak  again.  "  You  cannot  under 
stand.  How  could  you  ?  We  love,  hate,  and  fear 
each  other  at  the  same  time,  and  death  only  can 
part  us.  But  that  may  soon — that  may  soon  ;  "  and 
she  clenched  her  hands  with  a  dark  look. 

"  But  enough  of  this.  I  have  too  much  to  do  to 
tire  myself  this  way.  You  must  go  to  that  house  ; 
I  cannot.  Old  Mrs.  Tompkins  and  her  son  will  give 
you  shelter.  I  don't  wish  them  to  get  into  trouble. 
There  will  be  a  close  investigation  into  all  this.  I 
know  what  your  father's  disposition  is.  And  now 


2l6  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

farewell.  The  only  good  thing  about  me  is,  I  shall 
still  pray  for  you,  the  only  one  who  has  ever  treated 
me  like  a  woman  since — since — since  I  fell  into  hell," 
she  said  in  a  low,  hoarse  tone,  and  printing  a  pas 
sionate  kiss  on  Annie's  hand,  she  blew  out  her  light, 
and  vanished  in  the  darkness. 

It  seemed  to  swallow  her  up  and  become  a  type 
of  the  mystery  and  fate  that  enshrouded  the  forlorn 
creature.  Beyond  the  bare  fact  that  she  took  the 
train  the  following  morning  with  the  man  she 
called  "Vight,"  Annie  never  heard  of  her  again. 
Still  there  was  hope  for  the  wretched  wanderer. 
However  dark  and  hidden  her  paths,  the  eyes  of  a 
merciful  God  ever  followed  her,  and  to  that  God 
Annie  prayed  often  in  her  behalf. 

NOTE — This  chapter  has  some  historic  basis.  The  man 
called  "  Vight "  is  not  altogether  an  imaginary  character,  for  a 
desperate  and  successful  counterfeiter  dwelt  for  a  time  among 
the  mountains  on  the  Hudson,  plying  his  nefarious  trade.  It  is 
said  that  he  took  life  more  than  once  to  escape  detection* 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

IN  THE  DEPTHS. 

AFTER  the  departure  of  their  strange  guide,  who 
had  befriended  them  as  best  she  could,  Gregory 
at  once  went  to  the  house  and  knocked.  There  was 
a  movement  within,  and  a  quavering  voice  asked, 
"Who's  there?" 

"  Friends  who  have  lost  their  way,  and  need 
shelter." 

"  I  don't  know  about  lettin'  strangers  in  this  time 
o'  night,"  answered  the  voice. 

"  There  are  only  two  of  us,"  said  Annie.  "  Per 
haps  you  know  who  Miss  Walton  is.  I  entreat  you 
to  let  us  in." 

"  Miss  Walton,  Miss  Walton,  sartin,  I  know  who 
she  is.  But  I  can't  believe  she's  here. 

"  Our  wagon  broke  down  this  afternoon,  and  we 
have  lost  our  way,"  explained  Gregory. 

Again  there  was  a  stir  inside,  and  soon  a  glimmer 
of  light.  After  a  few  moments  the  door  was  opened 
slightly,  and  a  woman's  voice  asked,  apprehensively, 
"  Be  you  sure  it's  Miss  Walton?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Annie,  "  you  need  have  no  fears. 
Hold  the  light,  and  see  for  yourself." 


2 1 8  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  B URR. 

This  the  woman  did,  and,  apparently  satisfied, 
gave  them  admittance  at  once. 

She  seemed  quite  aged,  and  a  few  gray  locks 
straggled  out  from  under  her  dingy  cap,  which  sug^ 
gested  anything  but  a  halo  around  her  wrinkled, 
withered  face.  A  ragged  calico  wrapper  incased 
her  tall,  gaunt  form,  and  altogether  she  did  not  make 
a  promising  hostess. 

Before  she  could  ask  her  unexpected  guests  any 
further  questions,  the  cry  of  a  whippoorwill  was 
again  heard  three  times.  She  listened  with  a  start 
led,  frightened  manner.  The  sounds  were  repeated, 
and  she  seemed  satisfied. 

"  Isn't  it  rather  late  in  the  season  for  whippoor- 
wills?"  asked  Annie,  uneasily,  for  this  bird's  note, 
now  heard  again,  seemed  like  a  signal. 

"  I  dunno  nothin'  about  whippoorwills,"  said  the 
woman,  stolidly.  "  The  pesky  bird  kind  o'  started 
me  at  first.  Don't  like  to  hear  'em  round.  They 
bring  bad  luck.  I  can't  do  much  for  you,  Miss 
Walton,  in  this  poor  place.  But  such  as  'tis  you're 
welcome  to  stay.  My  son  has  been  off  haulin'  wood  ; 
guess  he  won't  be  back  now  afore  to-morrow." 

"  When  do  you  think  he  will  come  ? "  asked 
Annie,  anxiously. 

"  Well,  not  much  afore  night,  I  guess." 

"  What  will  my  poor  father  do  ?  "  moaned  Annie. 
"  He  will  be  out  all  night  looking  for  us." 

"  Sure  now,  will  he  though  ?  "  said  the  woman, 
showing  some  traces  of  anxiety  herself.  "Well 
miss,  you'll  have  to  stay  till  my  son  gits  back,  for 


IN  THE  DEPTHS.  219 

it's  a  long  way  round  through  the  valley  to  your 
house." 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait  patiently  till 
morning.  The  woman  showed  Gregory  up  into  a 
loft  over  the  one  room  of  the  house,  saying,  "  Here's 
where  my  son  sleeps.  It's  the  best  I  can  do,  though 
I  s'pose  you  ain't  used  to  such  beds." 

He  threw  his  exhausted  form  on  the  wretched 
couch,  and  soon  found  respite  in  troubled  sleep. 

Annie  dozed  away  the  night  in  a  creaky  old  rock 
ing-chair,  the  nearest  approach  to  a  thing  of  com 
fort  that  the  hovel  contained.  The  old  woman  had 
evidently  been  so  "  started  "  that  she  needed  the 
sedative  of  a  short  clay  pipe,  highly  colored  indeed, 
still  a  connoisseur  in  meerschaums  would  scarcely 
covet  it.  This  she  would  remove  from  her  mouth 
now  and  then,  as  she  crouched  on  a  low  stool  in  the 
chimney-corner,  to  shake  her  head  ominously.  Per 
haps  she  knew  more  about  whippoorwills  than  she 
admitted.  At  last  it  seemed  that  the  fumes,  which 
half  strangled  Annie,  had  their  wonted  effect, 
and  she  hobbled  to  her  bed  and  was  soon  giving 
discordant  evidence  of  her  peace.  Annie  then 
noiselessly  opened  a  window,  that  she  too  might 
breathe. 

When  Gregory  waked  next  morning,  it  was  broad 
day.  He  felt  so  stiff  and  ill  he  could  scarcely  move, 
and  with  difficulty  made  his  way  to  the  room  below. 
The  old  woman  was  at  the  stove,  frying  some  sput 
tering  pork,  and  its  rank  odor  was  most  repulsive  to 
the  fastidious  habiiud  of  metropolitan  clubs. 


220  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"Where  is  Miss  Walton?"  he  asked,  in  quick 
alarm. 

"  Only  gone  to  the  spring  after  water,"  replied 
the  woman,  shortly.  "  Why  didn't  you  git  up  and 
git  it  for  her?" 

"  I  would  if  I  had  known,"  he  muttered,  and  he 
escaped  from  the  intolerable  air  of  the  room  to  the 
door,  where  he  met  Annie,  fresh  and  rosy  from  her 
morning  walk  and  her  toilet  at  the  brook  that 
brawled  down  the  ravine. 

"Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  certainly  ill,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  am  so  sorry  it  has  all  happened ! " 

He  looked  at  her  wonderingly,  and  then  said, 
"  You  appear  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  I  am 
ill,  Miss  Walton,  and  I  wish  I  were  dead.  You  can 
not  feel  toward  me  half  the  contempt  I  have  for 
myself." 

"  Now,  honestly,  Mr.  Gregory,  I  have  no  con- 
tempt  for  you  at  all." 

He  turned  away  and  shook  his  head  dejectedly. 

"  But  I  mean  what  I  say,"  she  continued,  earn 
estly. 

"  Then  it  is  your  goodness,  and  not  my  desert." 

"  As  I  told  you  last  night,  so  again  I  sincerely 
say,  I  think  I  understand  you  better  than  you  do 
yourself." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  he  answered,  with  gloomy 
emphasis.  "  Your  intuitions  are  quick,  I  admit.  I 
have  never  known  your  equal  in  that  respect.  But 
there  are  some  things  I  am  glad  to  think  you  never 
can  understand.  You  can  never  know  what  a  proud 


IN  THE  DEPTHS.  221 

man  suffers  when  he  has  utterly  lost  hope  and  self- 
respect.  Though  I  acted  so  mean  a  part  myself,  I 
can  still  appreciate  your  nobleness,  courage,  and 
fidelity  to  conscience.  I  thought  such  heroism 
belonged  only  to  the  past." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  I  wish  I  could  make  you  under 
stand  me,"  said  Annie,  with  real  distress  in  her  tone. 
"  I  am  not  brave  ;  I  was  more  afraid  than  you. 
Indeed,  I  was  in  an  agony  of  fear.  I  refused  that 
man's  demand  because  I  was  compelled  to.  If  you 
looked  at  things  as  I  do,  you  would  have  done  the 
same." 

"  Please  say  no  more,  Miss  Walton,"  said  he,  his 
face  distorted  by  an  expression  of  intense  self-loath 
ing.  "  Do  not  try  to  palliate  my  course.  I  would 
much  rather  you  would  call  my  cowardly  selfishness 
and  lack  of  principle  by  their  right  names.  The 
best  thing  I  can  do  for  the  world  is  to  get  out  of  it, 
and  from  present  feelings,  this  '  good-riddance  '  will 
soon  occur.  Will  you  excuse  me  if  I  sit  down  ?  " 
and  he  sank  upon  the  door-step  in  utter  weakness. 

Annie  had  placed  her  pail  of  water  on  the  door 
step  and  forgotten  it  in  her  wish  to  cheer  and  help 
this  bitterly  wounded  spirit. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "  you  are 
indeed  ill  in  body  and  mind,  and"  you  take  a  wrong 
and  morbid  view  of  everything.  My  heart  aches  to 
show  you  how  complete  and  perfect  a  remedy  there 
is  for  all  this.  It  almost  seems  as  if  you  were  dying 
from  thirst  with  that  brook  yonder  running — " 

"  There  is  no   remedy  for  me,"   interrupted  he, 


222  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

almost  harshly.  Then  he  added  in  a  weary  tone, 
pressing  his  hand  on  his  throbbing  brow,  "  Forgive 
me,  Miss  Walton ;  you  see  what  I  am.  Please 
waste  no  more  thought  on  me." 

"  If  yer  want  any  breakfast  to-day,  yer  better 
bring  that  water,"  called  the  old  woman  from 
within. 

Annie  gave  him  a  troubled,  anxious  look,  and 
then  silently  carried  in  the  pail. 

"  Have  you  any  tea  ?  "  she  asked,  not  liking  the 
odor  of  the  coffee. 

"  Mighty  little,"  was  the  short  answer. 

"  Please  let  me  have  some,  and  I  will  send  you  a 
pound  of  our  best  in  its  place,"  said  Annie. 

"  I  hain't  such  a  fool  as  to  lose  that  bargain," 
and  the  old  woman  hobbled  with  alacrity  to  a  cup 
board  ;  but  to  Annie's  dismay  the  hidden  treasure 
had  been  hoarded  too  near  the  even  more  prized 
tobacco,  and  seemed  redolent  of  the  rank  odor  of 
some  unsavory  preparation  of  that  remarkable  weed 
which  is  conjured  into  so  many  and  such  diverse 
forms.  But  she  brewed  a  little  as  best  she  could 
before  eating  any  breakfast  herself,  and  brought  it 
to  Gregory  as  he  still  sat  on  the  step,  leaning  against 
the  door-post. 

"  Please  swallow  this  as  medicine,"  she  said. 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  I  cannot,"  he  replied. 

"  Please  do,"  she  urged,  "as  a  favor  to  me.  I 
made  it  myself ;  and  I  can't  eat  any  breakfast  till  I 
have  seen  you  take  this." 

He  at  once  complied,  though  with  a  wry  face. 


IN  THE  DEPTHS.  223 

"  There,"  said  she,  with  a  touch  of  playfulness,  "  1 
have  seldom  received  a  stronger  compliment.  After 
this  compliance  I  think  I  could  venture  to  ask  any 
thing  of  you." 

"  The  tea  is  like  myself/'  he  answered.  "  You 
brought  to  it  skilled  hands  and  pure  spring  water, 
and  yet,  from  the  nature  of  the  thing  itself,  it  was  a 
villanous  compound.  Please  don't  ask  me  to  take 
any  more.  Perhaps  you  have  heard  an  old  saying, 
<  Like  dislikes  like. '" 

She  determined  that  he  should  not  yield  to  this 
morbid  despondency,  but  had  too  much  tact  to 
argue  with  him;  therefore  she  said,  kindly,  "We 
never  did  agree  very  well,  Mr.  Gregory,  and  don't 
now.  But  before  many  hours  I  hope  I  can  give 
you  a  cup  of  tea  and  something  with  it  more  to  your 
taste.  I  must  admit  that  I  am  ready  even  for  this 
dreadful  breakfast,  that  threatens  to  destroy  my 
powers  of  digestion  in  one  fatal  hour.  You  see 
what  a  poor  subject  I  am  for  romance  ;  "  and  she 
smilingly  turned  away  to  a  meal  that  gave  her  a 
glimpse  of  how  the  "  other  half  of  the  world 
lives." 

Before  she  had  finished,  the  sound  of  wheels  and 
horses'  hoofs  coming  rapidly  up  the  glen  brought 
her  to  the  door,  and  with  joy  she  recognized  a  near 
neighbor  of  her  father's,  a  sturdy,  kind-hearted 
farmer,  who  had  joined  in  the  search  for  the  missing 
ones  the  moment  he  learned,  in  the  dawn  of  that 
morning,  that  they  had  not  returned. 

He  gave  a  glad  shout  as  he  saw  Annie's  form  in 


224  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR, 

the  doorway,  and  to  her  his  broad,  honest  face  was 
like  that  of  an  angel.  All  are  beautiful  to  those 
they  help. 

"  Your  father  is  in  a  dreadful  state,  Miss  Annie," 
said  Farmer  Jones  ;  "  but  I  told  him  if  he  would 
only  stay  at  home  and  wait,  I,  and  a  few  other 
neighbors,  would  soon  find  you.  He  was  up  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain  ever  since  twelve  o'clock  last 
night.  Then  he  came  home  to  see  if  you  hadn't 
returned  some  other  way.  I'm  usually  out  as  soon 
as  it's  light,  so  I  hailed  him  as  he  passed  and  asked 
what  on  earth  he  was  up  for  at  that  time  of  day. 
He  told  me  his  trouble,  so  I  hitched  up  my  light 
wagon  and  got  to  your  house  as  soon  as  he  did. 
When  he  found  you  hadn't  come  yet,  he  was  for 
starting  right  for  the  mountains,  but  I  saw  he  wasn't 
fit,  so  I  says,  '  Mr.  Walton,  you'll  just  miss  'em. 
They've  taken  a  wrong  road,  or  the  wagon  has 
broken  down,  but  they'll  be  home  before  ten  o'clock. 
Now  send  Jeff  up  the  road  you  expected  them  on. 
I'll  send  Mr.  Harris,  who  lives  just  beyond  me,  out 
on  the  road  they  took  first.  My  horse  is  fast,  and 
I'll  go  round  up  this  valley,  and  in  this  way  we'll 
soon  scour  every  road  ; '  and  so  with  much  coaxing 
I  got  him  to  promise  to  stay  till  I  returned.  So 
jump  in  quick,  and  I'll  have  you  home  in  little  over 
an  hour." 

"  But  we  can't  leave  Mr.  Gregory  here.  Let  him 
go  first.  He  is  ill,  and  needs  attention  immedi 
ately." 

"  Miss  Walton,   please  return  at  once  to  your 


IN  THE  DEPTHS.  22$ 

father,"  said  Gregory,  quickly.  "  It  is  your  duty.  I 
can  wait." 

"  No,  Mr.  Gregory,  it  would  not  be  right  to  leave 
you  here,  feeling  as  you  do.  At  soon  as  father 
knows  I  am  safe  his  mind  will  be  at  rest.  I  am  per 
fectly  well,  and  you  have  no  idea  how  ill  you  look." 

"  Miss  Walton,"  said  Gregory,  in  a  tone  that  was 
almost  harsh  in  its  decisiveness,  "  I  will  not  return 
now." 

"  I  am  real  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  "  that  my 
wagon  is  not  larger,  but  I  took  the  best  thing  that 
I  had  for  fast  driving  over  rough  roads.  Come,  Miss 
Walton,  your  friend  has  settled  it,  and  if  he  is  sick 
he  had  better  come  more  slowly  in  an  easier  car 
riage." 

After  cordially  thanking  the  old  woman  for  such 
rude  hospitality  as  she  had  bestowed,  and  renewing 
her  promise  to  send  ample  recompense,  she  turned 
with  gentle  courtesy  to  Gregory  and  assured  him 
that  he  would  not  have  long  to  wait. 

He  gave  her  a  quick,  searching  look,  and  said, 
"  Miss  Walton,  I  do  not  understand  how  you  can 
speak  to  me  in  this  way.  But  go  at  once.  Do  not 
keep  your  father  in  suspense  any  longer." 

"  I  hope  we  shall  find  you  better  when  we  come 
for  you,"  she  said,  kindly. 

"  It  were  better  you  found  me  dead,"  he  said,  in 
sudden  harshness,  but  it  was  toward  himself,  not  her. 

So  she  understood  it,  and,  waving  her  hand 
encouragingly,  was  rapidly  driven  away. 

As  they  rode  along  she  related  to  Mr.  Jones  the 


226  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

events  already  known  to  the  reader,  but  carefully 
shielded  Gregory  from  blame.  She  also  satisfied 
her  companion's  evident  curiosity  about  the  young 
man  by  stating  so  frankly  all  it  was  proper  for  him 
to  know  that  he  had  no  suspicion  of  anything  con 
cealed.  She  explained  his  last  and  unusual  expres 
sion  by  dwelling  with  truth  on  the  fact  that  Gregory 
appeared  seriously  ill  and  was  deeply  depressed  in 
spirits. 

Mr.  Walton  received  his  daughter  with  a  joy 
beyond  words.  She  was  the  idol  of  his  heart, — the 
one  object  on  earth  that  almost  rivalled  his  "  treas 
ures  in  heaven."  His  mind  had  dwelt  in  agonized 
suspense  on  a  thousand  possibilities  of  evil  during 
the  prolonged  hours  of  her  absence,  and  now  that 
he  clasped  her  again,  and  was  assured  of  her  safety, 
he  lifted  his  eyes  heavenward  with  overflowing  grat 
itude  in  his  heart. 

But  Annie's  success  in  keeping  up  before  him  was 
brief.  The  strain  had  been  a  little  too  severe.  She 
soon  gave  way  to  nervous  prostration  and  headache, 
and  was  compelled  to  retire  to  her  room  instead  of 
returning  for  Gregory  as  she  had  intended.  But  he 
was  promptly  sent  for,  Miss  Eulie  going  in  her 
place,  and  taking  every  appliance  possible  for  his 
comfort. 

She  found  him  in  Mrs.  Tompkins's  hovel,  sitting  in 
the  creaky  arm-chair  that  Annie  had  occupied  the 
night  before,  and  enduring  with  a  white,  grim  face 
the  increasing  suffering  of  his  illness.  He  seemed 
to  have  reached  the  depths  of  despair,  and,  believ- 


IN  THE  DEPTHS.  227 

ing  the  end  near,  determined  to  meet  it  with  more 
than  Indian  stoicism. 

Many,  in  their  suicidal  blindness  and  remorse, 
pass  sentence  upon  themselves,  and  weakly  deliver 
their  souls  into  the  keeping  of  that  inexorable 
jailer,  Despair,  forgetting  the  possibilities — nay,  cer 
tainties — of  good  that  ever  dwell  in  God.  If  man 
had  no  better  friend  than  himself,  his  prospects 
would  be  sombre  indeed.  Many  a  one  has  con 
demned  himself  and  sunk  into  the  apathy  of  death, 
but  He  who  came  to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost  has 
lifted  him  with  the  arms  of  forgiving  love,  and 
helped  him  back  to  the  safety  and  happiness  of  the 
fold.  Satan  only,  never  the  Saviour,  bids  the  sinner 
despair. 

But  poor  Gregory  was  taking  advice  from  his 
enemy  and  not  from  his  Friend.  During  the  long 
hours  of  pain  and  almost  mortal  weakness  of  that 
dreary  morning,  he  acknowledged  himself  van 
quished, — utterly  defeated  in  the  battle  of  life.  As 
old  monkish  legends  teach,  the  devil  might  have 
carried  him  off  bodily  and  he  would  not  have 
resisted.  In  his  prostrated  nature,  but  one  element 
of  strength  was  apparent, — a  perverted  pride  that 
rose  like  a  shattered,  blackened  shaft,  the  one 
prominent  relic  of  seemingly  utter  ruin. 

At  first  he  coldly  declined  the  cordial  and  nour 
ishment  Miss  Eulie  brought,  and  said,  with  a  quiet 
ness  that  did  not  comport  with  the  meaning  of  his 
words,  that  she  had  better  leave  him  to  himself,  for 
he  would  not  make  trouble  for  any  one  much 
longer. 


228  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Miss  Eulie  was  shocked,  finding  in  these  words 
and  in  his  general  appearance  proof  that  he  was 
more  seriously  ill  than  she  had  anticipated. 

He  was  indeed  ;  but  his  malady  was  rather  that 
of  a  morbid  mind  depressing  an  enfeebled  body 
than  actual  disease.  But  mental  distress  could 
speedily  kill  a  man  like  Gregory. 

Miss  Eulie  soon  brought  him  to  terms  by  saying, 
"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  see  I  am  alone.  Mr.  Walton 
was  too  exhausted  to  accompany  me,  and  Annie 
did  not  send  any  of  the  neighbors,  as  she  thought 
the  presence  of  strangers  would  be  irksome  to  you." 

"  She  said  she  would  come  herself,  but  she  has 
had  time  to  think  and  judge  me  rightly,"  muttered 
he,  interrupting  her. 

"  No,  Mr.  Gregory,"  Miss  Eulie  hastened  to  say ; 
"  you  do  her  wrong.  She  was  too  ill  to  come,  as 
she  intended  and  wished  to  do,  and  so  with  many 
anxious  charges  sent  me  in  her  place.  I  am  but  a 
woman,  and  dependent  on  your  courtesy.  I  can 
not  compel  you  to  go  with  me.  But  I  am  sure  you 
will  not  wrong  my  brother's  hospitality,  and  make 
Miss  Walton's  passing  indisposition  serious,  by  refus 
ing  to  come  with  me.  If  you  did  she  would  rise 
from  her  sick  bed  and  come  herself." 

Gregory  at  once  rose  and  said,  "  I  can  make  no 
excuse  for  myself.  I  seem  fated  to  do  and  say  the 
worst  things  possible  under  the  circumstances." 

"  You  are  ill,"  said  Miss  Eulie,  kindly,  as  if  that 
explained  everything. 

Declining  aid,  he  tottered  to  the  carriage,  into 


IN  THE  DEPTHS.  229 

which  Jeff,  with  some  curious  surmises,  helped 
him. 

Miss  Eulie  made  good  Annie's  promises  to  Mrs. 
Tompkins  fourfold,  and  left  the  shrivelled  dame 
with  a  large  supply  of  one  of  the  elements  of  her 
heaven, — tea,  and  with  the  means  of  purchasing  the 
other, — tobacco,  besides  more  substantial  additions 
to  the  old  woman's  meagre  larder. 

Gregory  was  averse  to  conversation  during  the 
long,  slow  ride.  The  jolting,  even  of  the  easy  cush 
ioned  carriage,  was  exceedingly  painful,  and  by  the 
time  they  reached  home  he  was  quite  exhausted. 
Leaning  on  Mr.  Walton's  arm  he  at  once  went  to 
his  room,  and  at  their  urgent  entreaties  forced  him 
self  to  take  a  little  of  the  dainty  supper  that  was 
forthcoming.  But  their  kindly  solicitude  was  cour 
teously  but  coldly  repelled.  Acting  reluctantly 
upon  his  plainly  manifested  wish,  they  soon  left  him 
to  himself,  as  after  his  first  eager  inquiry  concern 
ing  Miss  Walton  it  seemed  a  source  of  pain  to  him 
to  see  or  speak  to  any  one. 

At  first  his  arm-chair  and  the  cheery  wood-fire 
formed  a  pale  reflection  of  something  like  comfort, 
but  every  bone  in  his  body  ached  from  the  recent 
cold  he  had  taken.  He  had  just  fever  enough  to 
increase  the  distortion  of  the  images  of  his  morbid 
and  excited  mind.  Hour  after  hour  he  sat,  with 
grim  white  face  and  fixed  stare,  scourging  himself 
with  the  triple  scorpion-whip  of  remorse,  vain  regret, 
and  self-disgust.  But  an  old  and  terrible  enemy 
was  stealing  on  him  to  change  the  nature  of  his 


230  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

torment, — neuralgic  headache  ;  and  before  morning 
he  was  walking  the  floor  in  agony,  a  sad  type,  while 
the  world  slept  and  nature  rested,  of  that  large 
class,  all  whose  relations,  physical  and  moral,  are  a 
jangling  discord. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MISS  WALTON    MADE    OF    DIFFERENT  CLAY    FROM 
OTHERS. 

SIMPLE  remedies  and  prolonged  rest  were  suffu 
cient  to  restore  Annie  after  the  serious  shock 
and  strain  she  had  sustained.  She  rose  even  earlier 
than  usual,  and  hastily  dressed  that  she  might 
resume  her  wonted  place  as  mistress  of  her  father's 
household.  In  view  of  her  recent  peril  and  the 
remediless  loss  he  might  have  suffered,  she  was 
doubly  grateful  for  the  privilege  of  ministering  to 
his  wants  and  filling  his  declining  years  with  cheer 
and  comfort. 

She  had  not  been  awake  long  before  Gregory's 
irregular  steps  in  the  adjoining  room  aroused  her 
attention  and  caused  anxious  surmises.  But  she 
was  inclined  to  think  that  his  restlessness  resulted 
from  mental  distress  rather  than  physical.  Still  she 
did  not  pity  him  less,  but  rather  more.  Though  so 
young,  she  knew  that  the  "  wounded  spirit"  often 
inflicts  the  keener  agony.  Her  strong  womanly 
nature  was  deeply  moved  in  his  behalf.  As  we  have 
seen,  it  was  her  disposition  to  be  helpful  and  sus 
taining,  rather  than  clinging  and  dependent.  She 
had  a  heart  "  at  leisure  from  itself,  to  soothe  and 


232  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

sympathize."  From  the  depths  of  her  soul  she 
pitied  Gregory  and  wished  to  help  him  out  of  a  state 
which  the  psalmist  with  quaint  force  describes  as  "  a 
horrible  pit  and  the  miry  clay." 

She  was  a  very  practical  reformer,  and  determined 
that  a  dainty  breakfast  should  minister  to  the  outer 
man  before  she  sought  to  apply  a  subtler  balm  to 
the  inner.  Trusting  not  even  to  Zibbie's  established 
skill,  she  prepared  with  her  own  hands  some  invit 
ing  delicacies,  and  soon  that  which  might  have 
tempted  the  most  exacting  of  epicures  was  ready. 

Mr.  Walton  shared  the  delight  of  the  children  at 
seeing  Annie  bustling  round  again  as  the  good  gen 
ius  of  their  home,  and  Miss  Eulie's  little  sighs  of 
content  were  as  frequent  as  the  ripples  on  the  shore. 
Miss  Eulie  could  sigh  and  wipe  a  tear  from  the  cor 
ner  of  her  eye  in  the  most  cheerful  and  hope-inspir 
ing  way,  for  somehow  her  face  shone  with  an  inward 
radiance,  and,  even  in  the  midst  of  sorrow  and 
when  wet  with  tears,  reminded  one  of  a  lantern  on. 
a  stormy  night,  which,  covered  with  rain-drops,  still 
gives  light  and  comfort. 

Breakfast  was  ready,  but  Gregory  did  not  appear. 
Hannah,  the  waitress,  was  sent  to  his  room,  and  in 
response  to  her  quiet  knock  he  said,  sharply,  "  Well." 

"  Breakfast  is  waiting." 

"  I  do  not  wish  any,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  tone 
that  seemed  resentful,  but  was  only  an  expression  of 
the  intolerable  pain  he  was  suffering.  Hannah  came 
down  with  a  scared  look  and  said  she  "  guessed 
something  was  amiss  with  Mr.  Gregory." 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y.  233 

Annie  looked  significantly  at  her  father,  who 
immediately  ascended  to  his  guest's  door. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  may  I  come  in  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Do  not  trouble  yourself.  I  shall  be  better  soon," 
was  the  response. 

The  door  was  unlocked,  and  Mr.  Walton  entered, 
and  saw  at  once  that  a  gentle  but  strong  will  must 
control  the  sufferer  for  his  own  good.  Mental  and 
nervous  excitement  had  driven  him  close  to  the  line 
where  reason  and  his  own  will  wavered  in  their  decis 
ions,  and  his  irregular,  tottering  steps  became  the 
type  of  the  whole  man.  His  eyes  were  wild  and 
bloodshot.  A  ghastly  pallor  gave  his  haggard  face 
the  look  of  death.  A  damp  chillness  pervaded  the 
heavy  air  of  the  room,  which  in  his  unrest  he  had 
greatly  disordered.  The  fire  had  died  out,  and  he 
had  not  even  tried  to  kindle  it  again.  His  brood- 
ings  had  been  so  deep  and  painful  during  the  earlier 
part  of  the  night  that  he  had  been  oblivious  of  his 
surroundings,  and  then  physical  anguish  became  so 
sharp  that  all  small  elements  of  discomfort  were 
unnoted. 

With  fatherly  solicitude  Mr.  Walton  stepped  up 
to  his  guest,  who  stood  staring  at  him  as  if  he  were 
an  intruder,  and  taking  his  cold  hand,  said,  M"  Mr. 
Gregory,  you  must  come  with  me.'* 

"Where?" 

"  To  the  sitting-room,  where  we  can  take  care  of 
you  and  relieve  you.  Come,  I'm  your  physician  for 
the  time  being,  and  doctors  must  be  obeyed." 

Gregory  had  not  undressed  the  night  before,  and, 


234  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

wrapped  in  his  rich  dressing-gown  and  with  dishev 
elled  hair,  he  mechanically  followed  his  host  to  the 
room  below  and  was  placed  on  the  lounge. 

"  Annie  has  prepared  you  a  nice  little  breakfast. 
Won't  you  let  me  bring  it  to  you  ?"  said  Mr.  Wal 
ton,  cheerily. 

"  No,"  said  Gregory,  abruptly,  and  pressing  his 
hands  upon  his  throbbing  temples,  "  the  very  thought 
of  eating  is  horrible.  Please  leave  me.  Indeed  I 
cannot  endure  even  your  kindly  presence." 

Mr.  Walton  looked  perplexed  and  scarcely  knew 
what  to  do,  but  after  a  moment,  said,  "  Really,  Mr. 
Gregory,  you  are  very  ill.  I  think  I  had  better  send 
for  our  physician  at  once." 

"  I  insist  that  you  do  not,"  said  his  guest,  starting 
up.  "  What  could  a  stupid  country  doctor  do  for 
me,  with  his  owl-like  examination  of  my  tongue  and 
clammy  fingering  of  my  pulse,  but  drive  me  mad  ? 
I  must  be  alone." 

"  Father,"  said  Annie,  in  a  firm  and  quiet  voice, 
"  I  will  be  both  nurse  and  physician  to  Mr.  Gregory 
this  morning.  If  I  fail,  you  may  send  for  a 
doctor." 

Unperceived  she  had  entered,  and  from  Gregory's 
manner  and  words  understood  his  condition. 

"  Miss  Walton,"  said  Gregory,  hastily,  "  I  give  you 
warning.  I  am  not  even  the  poor  weak  self  you 
have  known  before,  and  I  beg  you  leave  me  till  this 
nervous  headache  passes  off,  if  it  ever  does.  I  can't 
control  myself  at  such  times,  and  this  is  the  worst 
attack  I  ever  had.  I  am  low  enough  in  your  esteem. 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y.  235 

Do  not  add  to  my  pain  by  being  present  now  at  the 
time  of  my  greatest  weakness." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  replied,  "  you  may  speak  and 
act  your  worst,  but  you  shall  not  escape  me  this 
morning.  It's  woman's  place  to  remove  pain,  not 
fly  from  it.  So  you  must  submit  with  the  best  grace 
you  can.  If  after  I  have  done  all  in  my  power  you 
prefer  the  doctor  and  another  nurse,  I  will  give  way, 
but  now  you  have  no  choice." 

Gregory  fell  back  on  the  sofa  with  a  groan  and  a 
muttered  oath.  At  a  sign  from  his  daughter,  Mr, 
Walton  reluctantly  and  doubtfully  passed  through 
the  open  door  into  the  parlor,  where  he  was  joined 
by  Miss  Eulie. 

Annie  quietly  stepped  to  the  hearth  and  stirred 
the  fire  to  a  cheerful  blaze.  She  then  went  to  the 
parlor  and  brought  the  afghan,  and  without  so  much 
as  saying,  "  by  your  leave,"  spread  it  over  his  chilled 
form. 

Gregory  felt  himself  helpless,  but  there  was  some- 
thing  soothing  in  this  assertion  of  her  strong  will, 
and  like  a  sick  child  he  was  better  the  moment  he 
ceased  to  chafe  and  struggle. 

She  left  the  room  a  few  moments,  and  even  be 
tween  the  surges  of  pain  he  was  curious  as  to  what 
she  would  do  next.  He  soon  learned  with  a  thrill 
of  hope  that  he  was  to  experience  the  magnetism  of 
her  touch,  and  to  know  the  power  of  the  hand  that 
had  seemed  alive  in  his  grasp  on  the  day  of  their 
chestnutting  expedition.  Annie  returned  with  a 
quaint  little  bottle  of  German  cologne,  and,  taking 


236  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

a  seat  quietly  by  his  side,  began  bathing  his  aching 
temples. 

"  You  treat  me  like  a  child,"  he  said,  petulantly. 

"  I  hope  for  a  while  you  will  be  content  to  act  like 
one,"  she  replied. 

"  I  may,  like  a  very  bad  one." 

"  No  matter,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh  that  was  the 
very  antidote  of  morbidness ;  "  I  am  accustomed  to 
manage  children." 

But  in  a  very  brief  time  he  had  no  disposition  to 
shrink  from  her  touch  or  presence.  Her  hand  upon 
his  brow  seemed  to  communicate  her  own  strong, 
restful  life  ;  his  temples  throbbed  less  and  less  vio 
lently.  Silent  and  wondering  he  lay  very  still,  con 
scious  that  by  some  subtle  power  she  was  exorcising 
the  demons  of  pain.  His  hurried  breathing  became 
regular ;  his  hands  unclinched  ;  his  form,  which  had 
been  tense  and  rigid,  relaxed  into  a  position  of  com 
fort.  He  felt  that  he  was  under  some  beneficent 
spell,  and  for  an  hour  scarcely  moved  lest  he  should 
break  it  and  his  torment  return.  Annie  was  equally 
silent,  but  with  a  smile  saw  the  effects  of  her  ministry. 
At  last  she  looked  into  his  face,  and  said,  with  an 
arch  smile,  "  Shall  I  send  for  Doctor  Bludgeon  and 
Sairy  Gamp  to  take  my  place?" 

He  was  very  weak  and  unstrung,  and  while  a 
tremulous  smile  hovered  about  his  mouth,  his  eyes 
so  moistened  that  he  turned  toward  the  wall.  After 
a  moment  he  said,  "  Miss  Walton,  I  am  not  worthy 
of  your  kindness." 

"  Nor  are  you  unworthy.  But  kindness  is  not  a 
matter  of  business, — so  much  for  so  much." 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y.  237 

"Why  do  you  waste  your  time  on  me  ?  " 

"That  is  a  childish  question.  What  a  monster  I 
should  be  if  I  heedlessly  left  you  to  suffer !  The 
farmers'  wives  around  would  mob  me." 

u  I  am  very  grateful  for  the  relief  you  are  giving 
me,  even  though  mere  humanity  is  the  motive." 

"  Mere  humanity  is  not  my  motive.  You  are  our 
guest,  the  son  of  my  father's  dearest  friend,  and  for 
your  own  sake  I  am  deeply  interested  in  you." 

"  Miss  Walton,  I  know  in  the  depths  of  your  soul 
you  are  disgusted  with  me.  You  seek  to  apply  those 
words  to  my  spirit  as  you  do  cologne  to  my  head." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  It  is  not  the  cologne  only 
that  relieves  your  headache." 

"  I  know  that  well.  It  is  your  touch  which  seems 
magical." 

"  Well  then,  you  should  know  from  my  touch  that 
I  am  not  sitting  here  telling  fibs.  If  I  should  bathe 
your  head  with  a  wooden  hand,  wouldn't  you 
know  it?" 

"  What  an  odd  simile  !    I  cannot  understand  you." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should,  but  do  not 
wrong  me  by  doubting  me  again." 

"  I  have  done  nothing  but  wrong  you,  Miss  Wal 
ton." 

"  I'm  not  conscious  of  it,  so  you  needn't  worry, 
and  I  assure  you  I  find  it  a  pleasure  to  do  you  good.'* 

"  Miss  Walton,  you  are  the  esstnce  of  goodness." 

"  Oh,  no,  no ;  why  say  of  a  creature  what  is  only 
true  of  God  ?  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  very  extravagant 
in  your  language." 


238  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

A  scowl  darkened  his  face,  and  he  said,  moodily, 
"  God  seems  to  me  the  essence  of  cruelty." 

"  '  Seems,  seems  ! '  An  hour  since  I  seemed  a  tor 
ment,  and  you  were  driving  me  away." 

"  Yes,  but  you  soon  proved  yourself  a  kind,  help 
ful,  pitiful  friend.  I  once  thought  my  cheek  would 
flame  with  anger  even  if  I  were  dying,  should  I  be 
regarded  as  an  object  of  pity.  But  you,  better  than 
any  one,  know  that  I  am  one." 

"  I,  better  than  any  one,  know  that  you  are  not, 
in  the  sense  you  mean." 

"  Come,  Miss  Walton,  you  cannot  be  sincere  now. 
Do  you  think  I  can  ever  forget  the  miserable  scene 
of  Monday  evening,  when  you  placed  yourself  beside 
the  martyrs  and  I  sank  down  among  the  cowards  of 
any  age  ?  I  reached  the  bottom  of  the  only  perdi 
tion  I  believe  in.  I  have  lost  my  self-respect." 

"  Which  I  trust  God  will  help  you  regain  by  show 
ing  you  the  only  sure  and  safe  ground  on  which  self- 
respect  can  be  maintained.  Much  that  is  called  self- 
respect  is  nothing  but  pride.  But,  Mr.  Gregory, 
injustice  to  one's  self  is  as  wrong  as  injustice  to 
another.  Answer  me  honestly  this  question.  Did 
you  act  that  evening  only  from  fear, — because  you 
have  it  not  in  you  to  face  danger?  or  did  you  prom 
ise  secrecy  because  you  felt  the  man's  crime  was 
none  of  your  business,  and  supposed  I  would  take 
the  same  view  ?  " 

Gregory  started  up  and  looked  at  her  with  a  face 
all  aglow  with  honest,  grateful  feeling,  and  said, 
"God  knows  the  latter  is  the  truth." 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y. 

"And  I  know  it  too.     I  knew  it  then." 

"  But  the  world  could  never  be  made  to  see  it  in 
that  light." 

"  Now  pride  speaks.  Self-respect  does  not  depend 
upon  the  opinion  of  the  world.  The  world  has  noth 
ing  to  do  with  the  matter.  You  certainly  do  not 
expect  I  am  going  to  misrepresent  you  before  it." 

He  bent  a  look  upon  her  such  as  she  had  never 
sustained  before.  It  was  the  look  of  a  man  who 
had  discovered  something  divine  and  precious  be 
yond  words.  It  was  a  feeling  such  as  might  thrill 
one  who  was  struggling  in  darkness,  and,  as  he  sup 
posed,  sinking  in  the  deep  sea,  but  whose  feet 
touched  something  which  seemed  to  sustain  him. 
The  thought,  "  I  can  trust  her, — she  is  true,"  came 
to  him  at  that  time  with  such  a  blessed  power  to 
inspire  hope  and  give  relief  that  for  a  moment  he 
could  not  speak.  Then  he  began,  "  Miss  Walton,  I 
cannot  find  words — " 

"  Do  not  find  them,"  she  interrupted,  laughingly. 
"  See,  your  temples  are  beginning  to  throb  again, 
and  I  am  a  sorry  nurse,  a  true  disciple  of  Mrs. 
Gamp,  to  let  you  excite  yourself.  Lie  down,  sir,  at 
once,  and  let  your  thoughts  dwell  the  next  half-hour 
on  your  breakfast.  You  have  much  reason  for  regret 
that  the  dainty  little  tidbits  that  I  first  prepared  are 
spoiled  by  this  time.  I  doubt  whether  I  can  do  so 
well  again." 

"  I  do  not  wish  any  breakfast.  Please  do  not  leave 
me  yet." 

"  It  makes  no  difference  what  you  wish.     The  idea 


240  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

of  an  orthodox  physician  consulting  the  wishes  of 
his  patient !  My  practical  skill  sees  your  need  of 
breakfast." 

"Have  you  had  any  yourself?"  he  asked,  again 
starting  up,  and  looking  searchingly  at  her. 

"  Well,  I  have  had  a  cup  of  coffee,"  she  replied 
coloring  a  little. 

"  What  a  brute  I  am  ! "  he  groaned. 

"  In  that  charge  upon  yourself  you  strongly  assert 
the  possession  of  an  animal  nature,  and  therefore  of 
course  the  need  of  a  breakfast." 

"  May  I  be  choked  by  the  first  mouthful  if  I  touch 
anything  before  I  know  you  have  had  your  own." 

"What  an  awful  abjuration!  How  can  you  swear 
so  before  a  lady,  Mr.  Gregory  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  a  solemn  vow." 

"  Then  I  must  take  my  breakfast  with  you,  for 
with  your  disposition  to  doubt  I  don't  see  how  you 
can  *  know  *  anything  about  it  otherwise." 

"That  is  better  than  I  hoped.  I  will  eat  anything 
you  bring  on  those  conditions,  if  it  does  choke  m* 
— and  I  know  it  will." 

"  A  fine  compliment  to  my  cooking,"  she  retorted 
and  laughingly  left  the  room. 

Gregory  could  not  believe  himself  the  haggard 
wretch  that  Mr.  Walton  had  found  two  hours  sinceo 
Then  he  was  ready  to  welcome  death  as  a  deliverer* 
Insane  man !  As  if  death  ever  delivered  any  from 
evil  but  the  good!  But  so  potent  had  been  the 
sweet  wine  of  Annie's  ministry  that  his  chilled  and 
benumbed  heart  was  beginning  to  glow  with  a  faint 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y.  **l 

warmth  of  hope  and  comfort.  Morbidness  could  no 
more  exist  in  her  presence  than  shadows  on  the 
sunny  side  of  trees.  With  her  full  knowledge  of 
the  immediate  cause  of  his  suffering,  and  with  her 
unusual  tact,  she  had  applied  balm  to  body  and 
spirit  at  the  same  time.  The  sharp,  cutting  agony 
in  his  head  had  been  charmed  away.  The  paroxysm 
had  passed,  and  the  dull  ache  that  remained  seemed 
nothing  in  comparison, — merely  the  heavy  swell  of 
the  departed  storm. 

He  forgot  himself,  the  source  of  all  his  trouble,  in 
thinking  about  Miss  Walton.  The  plain  girl,  as  he 
had  at  first  regarded  her,  with  a  weak,  untried  char 
acter  that  he  had  expected  to  topple  over  by  the 
breath  of  a  little  flattery,  now  seemed  divinely  beau 
tiful  and  strong.  She  reminded  him  of  the  graceful, 
symmetrical  elm,  which,  though  bending  to  the  tem 
pest,  is  rarely  broken  or  uprooted. 

He  hardly  hoped  that  she  would  give  him  credit 
for  the  real  state  of  his  mind  which  had  led  to  his 
ready  promise  of  secrecy.  To  the  counterfeiter's 
wretched  companion  he  had  seemed  the  weakest  and 
meanest  of  cowards,  and  if  the  story  were  generally 
known  he  would  appear  in  the  same  light  to  the 
world.  To  his  intensely  proud  nature  this  would  be 
intolerable.  And  why  should  it  not  be  known?  If 
Miss  Walton  chose  to  regard  his  choice  as  one  of 
cowardice,  how  could  he  prove,  even  to  her,  that  it 
was  not  ? 

Moreover,  his  low  estimate  of  human  nature  led 
him  to  believe  that  even  Annie  would  use  him  as  a 


242  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

dark  background  for  her  heroism  ;  and  he  well  knew 
that  when  such  a  story  is  once  started,  society's 
strongest  tendency  is  to  exaggerate  man's  pusillan 
imity  and  woman's  courage.  He  shuddered  as  he 
saw  himself  growing  blacker  and  meaner  in  every 
fire-side  and  street-corner  narration  of  the  strange 
tale,  till  at  last  his  infamy  should  pass  into  one  of 
the  traditions  of  the  place.  A  man  like  Gregory 
could  not  long  have  endured  such  a  prospect.  He 
would  have  died,  either  by  every  physical  power 
speedily  giving  way  under  mental  anguish,  or  by  his 
own  hand;  or,  if  he  had  lived,  reason  would  have 
dropped  its  sceptre  and  become  the  sport  of  wild 
thoughts  and  fancies. 

Little  wonder  that  Annie  appeared  an  angel  of 
light  when  she  stood  between  him  and  such  a 
future.  The  ugliest  hag  would  have  been  glorified 
and  loved  in  the  same  position.  But  when  she  did 
this  with  her  own  peculiar  grace  and  tact,  as  a  matter 
of  justice,  his  gratitude  and  admiration  knew  no 
bounds.  He  was  in  a  fair  way  to  become  an  idola- 
tor  and  worship  the  country  girl  he  had  once 
sneered  at,  as  no  pictured  Madonna  was  ever 
revered  even  in  superstitious  Italy.  Besides  placing 
him  under  personal  obligation,  she  had,  by  tests 
certain  and  terrible,  proved  herself  true  and  strong 
in  a  world  that  he  believed  to  be,  in  the  main, 
utterly  false  at  heart.  It  is  one  of  our  most  natural 
instincts  to  trust  and  lean  upon  something,  and 
Annie  Walton  seemed  one  whose  friendship  he  could 
value  above  life. 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y.  24 J 

He  did  not  even  then  realize,  in  his  glad  sense  of 
relief,  that  in  escaping  the  charge  of  cowardice  he 
fell  upon  the  other  horn  of  the  dilemma,  namely, 
lack  of  principle, — that  the  best  explanation  of  his 
conduct  admitted  that  he  was  indifferent  to  right 
and  wrong,  and  even  to  the  most  serious  crime 
against  society,  so  long  as  he  was  not  personally 
and  immediately  injured.  He  had  acted  on  the 
selfish  creed  that  a  man  is  a  fool  who  puts  himself 
to  serious  trouble  to  serve  the  public.  The  fact 
that  he  did  not  even  dream  that  Annie  would  make 
the  noble  stand  she  did  proves  how  far  selfishness 
can  take  a  man  out  of  his  true  course  when  he 
throws  overboard  compass  and  chart  and  lets  him 
self  drift. 

But  in  the  world's  code  (which  was  his)  cowardice 
is  the  one  deadly  sin.  His  lack  of  anything  like 
Christian  principle  was  a  familiar  fact  to  him,  and 
did  not  hurt  him  among  those  with  whom  he  asso 
ciated. 

Even  Annie,  woman-like,  could  more  readily  for 
give  all  his  faults  than  a  display  of  that  weakness 
which  is  most  despised  in  a  man.  But  she  too  was 
sufficiently  familiar  with  the  world  not  to  be  repelled 
or  shocked  by  a  life  which,  compared  with  all  true, 
noble  standards,  was  sadly  lacking.  And  yet  she 
was  the  very  last  one  to  be  dazzled  by  a  fast,  bril 
liant  man  of  the  world.  She  had  been  too  well 
educated  for  that,  and  had  been  early  taught  to  distin 
guish  between  solid  worth  and  mere  tinsel.  Her  native 
powers  of  observation  were  strong,  and  her  father,  and 


«44  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

mother  also  before  she  died,  had  given  her  opportu. 
nities  for  exercising  them.  Instead  of  mere  assertions 
as  to  what  was  right  and  wrong  and  general  lecturing 
on  the  subject,  they  had  aimed  to  show  her  right  and 
wrong  embodied  in  human  lives.  They  made  her 
feel  that  God  wanted  her  to  do  right  for  the  same 
reason  that  they  did,  because  He  loved  her.  First 
in  Bible  narrative  told  in  bedtime  stories,  then  in 
history  and  biography,  and  finally  in  the  experience 
of  those  around  them,  she  had  been  shown  the 
happy  contrast  of  good,  God-pleasing  life  with  that 
which  is  selfish  and  wicked.  So  thorough  and  prac 
tical  had  been  the  teaching  in  this  respect,  and  so 
impressed  was  she  by  the  lesson,  that  she  would  as 
soon  have  planted  in  her  flower-bed  the  seeds  of 
tender  annuals  on  the  eve  of  autumn  frosts,  and 
expected  bloom  in  chill  December,  as  to  enter  upon 
a  course  that  God  frowns  upon,  and  look  for  happi 
ness.  Her  father  often  said,  "  A  human  being 
opposing  God's  will  is  like  a  ship  beating  against 
wind  and  tide  to  certain  wreck." 

An  evil  life  appeared  therefore  to  her  a  moral  mad 
ness,  under  the  malign  influence  of  which  people  were 
like  the  mentally  deranged  who  with  strange  pervers 
ity  hate  their  best  friends  and  cunningly  watch  for 
chances  of  self-destruction.  While  on  one  hand  she 
shrunk  from  them  with  something  of  the  repulsion 
which  many  feel  toward  the  unsound  in  mind,  on  the 
other  she  cherished  the  deepest  pity  for  them. 
Knowing  how  full  a  remedy  ever  exists  in  Him 
whose  word  and  touch  removed  humanity's  most 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y.  245 

desperate  ills,  it  was  her  constant  wish  and  effort  to 
lead  as  many  as  possible  to  this  Divine  Friend.  If 
she  had  been  like  many  sincere  but  selfish  religion, 
ists,  she  would  have  said  of  Gregory,  "  He  is  not 
congenial.  We  have  nothing  in  common,"  and, 
wrapped  in  her  own  spiritual  pleasures  and  pursuits, 
would  have  shunned,  ignored,  and  forgotten  him. 
But  she  chiefly  saw  his  pressing  need  of  help,  and 
said  to  herself,  "  If  I  would  be  like  my  Master,  I 
must  help  him." 

Gregory  at  first  had  looked  upon  himself  as 
immeasurably  superior  to  the  plain  country  girl.  He 
little  imagined  that  she  at  the  same  time  had  a  pro 
found  pity  for  him,  and  that  this  fact  would  become 
his  best  chance  for  life.  She  had  not  forgotten  the 
merciful  conspiracy  entered  into  the  second  evening 
after  his  arrival,  but  was  earnestly  seeking  to  carry 
out  its  purposes.  In  order  to  do  this,  she  was 
anxious  to  gain  his  good-will  and  confidence,  and 
now  saw  with  gratitude  that  their  adventure  on  the 
mountain,  that  had  threatened  to  end  in  death, 
might  be  the  beginning  of  a  new  and  happy  life. 
She  exulted  over  the  hold  she  had  gained  upon  him, 
not  as  the  selfish  gloat  over  one  within  their 
power,  whom  they  can  use  for  personal  ends — not  as 
the  coquette  smiles  when  another  human  victim  is 
laid  upon  the  altar  of  her  vanity,  but  as  the  angels 
of  heaven  rejoice  when  there  is  even  a  chance  of  one 
sinner's  repentance. 

And  yet  Annie  had  no  intention  of  "talking 
religion  "  to  him  in  any  formal  way,  save  as  the 


246  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

subject  came  up  naturally ;  but  she  hoped  to  live  it, 
and  suggest  it  to  him  in  such  an  attractive  form  that 
he  would  desire  it  for  his  own  sake. 

But  her  chief  hope  was  in  the  fact  that  she  prayed 
for  him ;  and  she  no  more  expected  to  be  unheard 
and  unanswered  than  that  her  kind  father  would 
listen  with  a  stony  face  to  some  earnest  request  of 
hers. 

But  Annie  was  not  one  to  go  solemnly  to  work  to 
compass  an  event  that  would  cause  joy  in  heaven. 
She  would  ask  one  to  be  a  Christian  as  she  would 
invite  a  captive  to  leave  his  dungeon,  or  tell  the  sick 
how  to  be  well.  She  saw  that  morbid  gloom  had 
become  almost  a  disease  with  Gregory,  and  she  pro 
posed  to  cure  him  with  sunshine. 

And  sunshine  embodied  she  seemed  to  him  as  she 
returned,  her  face  glowing  with  exercise  and  close 
acquaintance  with  the  kitchen-range.  In  each  hand 
she  carried  a  dish,  while  Hannah  followed  with  a 
tray  on  which  smoked  the  most  appetizing  of  break 
fasts. 

"  Your  rash  vow,"  she  said,  "  has  caused  you  long 
waiting.  I'm  none  of  your  ethereal  heroines,  but 
have  a  craving  for  solids  served  in  quantity  and 
variety.  And  while  I  could  have  soon  got  your 
breakfast  it  was  no  bagatelle  to  get  mine." 

How  fresh  and  bright  she  looked  saying  all  this  ! 
and  he  ejaculated,  "  Deliver  me  from  the  ghastly 
creatures  you  call  *  ethereal  heroines/  " 

"  Indeed,  sir,"  she  retorted,  "  if  you  can't  deliver 
yourself  from  them  you  shall  have  no  help  from  me. 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y.  247 

But  let  us  at  once  enter  upon  the  solemnities,  and 
as  you  have  a  spark  of  gallantry,  see  to  it  that  you 
pay  my  cookery  proper  compliment." 

"Your  'cookery,'  forsooth!"  said  he,  with  some- 
thing  of  her  own  light  tone.  "  That  I  should  find 
Miss  Walton  stealing  Zibbie's  laurels !  " 

"  Chuckle  when  you  find  her  doing  it.  Hannah, 
who  prepared  this  breakfast  ?  " 

"Yourself,  miss,"  answered  the  woman,  with  an 
admiring  grin. 

"That  will  do,  Hannah;  we  will  wait  upon  our 
selves.  Shame  on  you,  sir!  You  are  no  connoisseur, 
since  you  cannot  tell  a  lady's  work  from  a  kitchen- 
maid's.  Moreover,  you  have  shown  that  wretched 
doubting  disposition  again." 

Now  that  they  were  alone,  Gregory  said,  earnestly, 
"  I  shall  never  doubt  you  again." 

"  I  hope  you  never  will  doubt  that  I  wish  to  do 
you  good,  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  replied,  passing  him  a 
cup  of  tea. 

"You  have  done  me  more  good  in  a  few  brief 
hours  than  I  ever  hoped  to  receive.  Miss  Walton, 
how  can  I  repay  you  ?  " 

"  By  being  a  better  friend  to  yourself.  Commence 
by  eating  this." 

He  did  not  find  it  very  difficult  to  comply.  After 
a  little  time  he  said,  "  But  my  conscience  condemns 
me  for  caring  too  much  for  myself." 

"And  no  doubt  your  conscience  is  right.  The 
idea  of  being  a  friend  to  yourself  and  going  against 
your  conscience ! " 


248  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Then  I  have  ever  been  my  own  worst  enemy." 

"  I  can  believe  that,  and  so  you'll  continue  to  be 
if  you  don't  take  another  piece  of  toast." 

"  And  yet  there  has  always  seemed  a  fatal  neces 
sity  for  me  to  do  wrong  and  go  wrong.  Miss  Wal 
ton,  you  are  made  of  different  clay  from  me  and 
most  people  that  I  know.  It  is  your  nature  to  be 
good  and  noble." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Annie,  with  a  positive  frown. 
"  Different  clay  indeed  !  I  imagine  you  do  wrong 
for  the  same  reason  that  I  do,  because  you  wish  to ; 
and  you  fail  in  doing  right  because  you  have  noth 
ing  but  your  weak  human  will  to  keep  you  up." 

"And  what  keeps  you  up,  pray?" 

"  Can  you  even  suppose  that  I  or  any  one  can  be 
a  Christian  without  Christ?" 

He  gave  one  of  his  incredulous  shrugs. 

"  Now  what  may  that  mean?"  she  asked. 

"Pardon  me  if  I  say  that  I  think  yours  is  a  pretty 
and  harmless  superstition.  This  world  is  one  of  inex 
orable  law  and  necessity  down  to  the  minutest  thing. 
A  weed  is  always  a  weed.  A  rose  is  always  a  rose. 
It's  my  misfortune  to  be  a  weed.  It's  your  good 
fortune  to  be  a  rose." 

Annie  looked  as  if  she  might  become  a  briery  one 
at  that  moment,  for  this  direct  style  of  compliment, 
though  honest,  was  not  agreeable.  Conscious  of 
many  struggles  with  evil,  it  was  even  painful,  for  it 
did  her  injustice  in  two  aspects  of  the  case.  So  she 
said,  dryly,  "  What  an  automaton  you  make  me  out 
to  be ! " 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y.  249 

"How  so?" 

"  If  I  merely  do  right  as  the  rose  grows,  I  deserve 
no  credit.  I'm  but  little  better  than  a  machine." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  compared  you  to  something  that 
has  a  beautiful  life  of  its  own.  But  I  would  willingly 
be  a  machine,  and  a  very  angular,  uncouth  one  too, 
if  some  outside  power  would  only  work  me  right  and 
to  some  purpose." 

"  Such  talk  seems  to  me  idle,  Mr.  Gregory.  I 
know  that  I  have  to  try  very  hard  to  do  right,  and  I 
often  fail.  I  do  not  believe  that  our  very  existence 
begins  in  a  lie,  as  it  were,  for  from  earliest  years  con- 
science  tells  us  that  we  needn't  do  wrong  and  ought 
not  to.  Honestly  now,  isn't  this  true  of  your  con 
science?" 

"  But  my  reason  concludes  otherwise,  and  reason 
is  above  conscience, — above  everything,  and  one 
must  abide  by  its  decisions." 

For  a  moment  Annie  did  not  know  how  to  answer. 
She  was  not  versed  in  theology  and  metaphysics^ 
but  she  knew  he  was  wrong.  Therefore  she  covered 
her  confusion  by  quietly  pouring  him  out  another  cup 
of  tea,  and  then  said,  "  Even  my  slight  knowledge  of 
the  past  has  taught  me  how  many  absurd  and  mon 
strous  things  can  be  done  and  said  in  the  name  of 
reason.  Religion  is  a  matter  of  revelation  and 
experience.  But  it  is  not  contrary  to  reason,  cer 
tainly  not  to  mine.  If  your  reason  should  conclude 
that  this  tea  is  not  hot,  what  difference  would  that 
make  to  me  ?  My  religion  is  a  matter  of  fact, 
ef  vivid  consciousness." 


250  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Of  course  it  is.  It's  your  life,  your  nature,  just 
as  in  my  nature  there  is  nothing  akin  to  it.  That  is 
why  I  say  you  are  made  of  different  clay  from  my- 
self ;  and  I  am  very  glad  of  it,"  he  added,  with  an 
air  of  pleasantry  which  she  saw  veiled  genuine  earn 
estness,  "  for  I  wish  you  the  best  of  everything  now 
and  always." 

Annie  felt  that  she  could  not  argue  him  out  of  his 
folly ;  and  while  she  was  annoyed,  she  could  not  be 
angry  with  him  for  expressions  that  were  not  meant 
as  flattery,  but  were  rather  the  strong  language  of 
his  gratitude.  "  Time  will  cure  him  of  his  delu* 
sions,"  she  thought,  and  she  said,  lightly,  "Mr. 
Gregory,  from  certain  knowledge  of  myself  which 
you  cannot  have  I  disclaim  all  your  absurd  ideas  in 
regard  to  the  new-fangled  clay  of  my  composition. 
I  know  very  well  that  I  am  ordinary  flesh  and  blood, 
a  fact  that  you  will  soon  find  out  for  yourself.  As 
your  physician,  I  pronounce  that  such  wild  fancies 
and  extravagant  language  prove  that  you  are  out  of 
your  head,  and  that  you  need  quieting  sleep.  I  am 
going  to  read  you  the  dullest  book  in  the  library  as 
a  sedative." 

"  No,  please,  sing  rather." 

"  What !  after  such  a  breakfast !  Do  you  suppose 
that  I  would  ruin  the  reputation  of  my  voice  in  one 
fell  moment  ?  Now  what  kind  of  clay  led  to  this 
remark  ?  Do  as  your  doctor  says.  Recline  on  the 
lounge.  Close  your  eyes.  Here  is  a  treatise  on  the 
Nebular  Hypothesis  that  looks  unintelligible  enough 
for  our  purpose." 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y.  25 1 

"  Nebular  Hypothesis  !  Another  heavenly  experi 
ence  such  as  you  are  ever  giving  me." 

"  Come,  Mr.  Gregory,  punning  is  a  very  bad  symp 
tom.  You  must  go  to  sleep  at  once."  And  soon 
her  mellow  voice  was  finding  its  way  into  a  laby 
rinth  of  hard  scientific  terms,  as  a  mountain  brook 
might  murmur  among  the  stones.  After  a  little 
time  she  asked  of  Gregory,  whose  eyes  remained 
wide  open,  "  How  does  it  sound  ?  " 

"  Like  the  multiplication  table  set  to  music.'* 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  I'm  trying  to  solve  a  little  nebular  hypothesis  of 
my  own.  I  was  computing  how  many  million  belles 
such  as  I  know,  and  how  many  ages,  would  be 
required  to  condense  them  into  a  woman  like  your 
self." 

Annie  shut  the  book  with  a  slam,  and  with  an 
abrupt,  half-vexed  "  good-by,"  left  the  room.  For  a 
brief  time  Gregory  lay  repenting  of  his  disastrous 
levity,  and  then  slept. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

MISS  WALTON  MADE  OF  ORDINARY  CLAY. 

WHEN  Gregory  awoke,  the  sun  had  sunk  behind 
the  mountains  that  he  could  not  even  look  toward 
now  without  a  shudder,  and  the  landscape,  as  seen 
from  the  window,  was  growing  obscure  in  the  early 
dusk  of  an  autumn  evening.  But  had  the  window 
opened  on  a  vista  in  Paradise  he  would  not  have 
looked  without,  for  the  one  object  of  all  the  world 
most  attractive  to  him  was  present.  Annie  sat  near 
the  hearth  with  some  light  crochet-work  in  her  hands. 
She  had  evidently  been  out  for  a  walk,  for  she  was 
drying  her  feet  on  the  fender.  How  trim  and  cun 
ning  they  looked,  peeping  from  under  the  white 
edge  of  her  skirt,  and  what  a  pretty  picture  she 
made  sitting  there  in  the  fire-light !  The  outline  of 
her  figure  surely  did  not  suggest  the  "  ethereal  hero 
ine,"  but  rather  the  presiding  genius  in  a  happy 
home,  in  which  the  element  of  comfort  abounded. 
She  looked  as  if  she  would  be  a  sweet-tempered, 
helpful  companion,  in  the  every-day  cares  and  duties 
of  a  busy  life  : 

"  A  creature  not  too  bright  or  good 
For  human  nature's  daily  food." 


OF  ORDINAR  Y  CLA  Y. 

"  How  dark  and  lustrous  her  eyes  are  in  the  fire 
light  ! "  Gregory  thought.  "  It  seems  as  if  another 
and  more  genial  fire  were  burning  in  them.  What 
can  she  be  thinking  of,  that  such  happy,  dreamy 
smiles  are  flitting  across  her  face  ?  If  I  had  such  a 
hearth  as  that,  and  such  a  good  angel  beside  it  to 
receive  me  after  the  day's  work  was  over,  I  believe  I 
could  become  at  least  a  man,  if  not  a  Christian ;" 
and  he  sighed  so  deeply  that  Annie  looked  hastily 
up,  and  encountered  his  wistful  gaze. 

"  What  a  profound  remark  you  just  made !  "  she 
said.  "  What  could  have  led  to  it  ?  " 

"You." 

"  I  do  not  think  that  I  am  an  object  to  sigh  over. 
I'm  perfectly  well,  I  thank  you,  and  have  had  my 
dinner." 

"  You  have  no  idea  what  a  pretty  picture  you 
made." 

"Yes,  in  this  poor  light,  and  your  disordered 
imagination.  But  did  you  sigh  on  that  account  ?  " 

"  No,  but  because  to  me  it  is  only  a  picture, — one 
that  shall  have  the  chief  place  in  the  gallery  of  my 
memory.  In  a  few  days  I  shall  be  in  my  cheerless 
bachelor  apartments,  with  nothing  but  a  dusty  regis 
ter  in  the  place  of  this  home-like  hearth." 

"  Come,  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  growing  senti 
mental.  I  will  go  and  see  if  supper  is  ready." 

"  Please  stay,  and  I  will  talk  of  the  multiplication 
table." 

"  No,  that  led  to  the  '  Nebular  Hypothesis/  You 
had  better  prepare  for  supper ;"  and  she  vanished. 


254  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  It's   my  fate,"  he   said,  rising,  "  to  drivr 
every  good  and  pleasant  thing." 

He  went  to  the  fire  and  stood  where  she  had  sat, 
and  again  thought  was  busy. 

"  She  seems  so  real  and  substantial,  and  yet  so 
intangible !  Her  defensive  armor  is  perfect,  and  I 
cannot  get  near  or  touch  her  unless  she  permits  it. 
The  sincerest  compliment  glances  off.  Out  of  her 
kindness  she  helps  me  and  does  me  good.  She 
bewitches  and  sways  me  by  her  spells,  but  I  might 
as  well  seek  to  imprison  a  spirit  of  the  air  as  to  gain 
any  hold  upon  her.  I  wonder  whom  or  what  she 
was  thinking  of,  that  such  dreamy,  tender  smiles 
should  flit  across  her  face." 

How  his  face  would  have  darkened  with  wrath  and 
hate,  if  he  had  known  that  his  detestation,  Hunting, 
had  inspired  them ! 

The  tea-bell  reminded  him  how  time  was  passing, 
and  he  went  to  his  room  with  an  elastic  step  that 
one  would  suppose  impossible  after  seeing  him  in 
the  morning.  But,  as  is  usual  with  nervous  organs 
zations,  he  sank  or  rallied  rapidly  in  accordance  with 
circumstances.  When  he  appeared  at  the  table,  Mr. 
Walton  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes. 

"  It  is  again  the  result  of  Miss  Walton's  witch, 
craft,"  explained  Gregory.  "  The  moment  I  felt  her 
hand  upon  my  brow,  there  came  a  sense  of  relief. 
In  Italy  they  would  make  a  saint  of  her,  and  bring 
out  the  sick  for  her  to  touch." 

"  And  so  soon  lose  their  saint  by  some  contagious 
disease,"  said  Annie,  laughing. 


OF  OR  DINAR  Y  CLA  Y.  255 

"  I  fear,  sir,  I  was  very  rude  to  you  this  morning, 
but  in  truth  I  was  beside  myself  with  pain." 

"Annie  has  a  wonderful  power  of  magnetism; 
I  don't  know  what  else  to  call  it,"  said  Miss  Eulie. 
"  She  can  drive  away  one  of  my  headaches  quicker 
than  all  other  remedies  combined." 

"  You  are  making  out,"  said  Annie,  "  that  my 
proper  calling  is  that  of  a  nurse.  If  you  don't 
change  the  subject,  I'll  leave  you  all  to  take  care  of 
yourselves,  and  go  down  to  Bellevue." 

"  If  you  do,"  laughed  Gregory,  "  I'll  break  every 
bone  in  my  body,  and  be  carried  into  your  ward  as 
a  homeless  stranger." 

The  supper-hour  passed  away  in  light  and  cheerful 
conversation.  As  if  by  common  consent,  the  scenes 
on  the  mountain  were  not  mentioned  in  the  presence 
of  the  children,  and  they  evidently  had  had  their 
curiosity  satisfied  on  the  subject. 

Annie  seemed  tired  and  languid  after  supper,  and 
Miss  Eulie  volunteered  to  see  the  children  safely  to 
their  rest.  Mr.  Walton  insisted  that  Annie  should 
take  his  easy-chair,  and  Gregory  placed  a  foot-stool 
at  her  feet,  and  together  they  "  made  a  baby  of  her," 
she  said.  The  old  gentleman  then  took  his  seat,  and 
seemed  to  find  unbounded  content  in  gazing  on  his 
beloved  daughter.  Their  guest  appeared  restless 
and  began  to  pace  the  room.  Suddenly  he  asked 
Mr.  Walton,  "  Have  you  heard  anything  of  the 
fugitives  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word  beyond  the  fact  that  they  bought 
tickets  for  New  York  and  took  the  train.  I  have 


256  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

telegraphed  to  the  City  Police  Department,  and  for 
warded  the  description  of  their  persons  which  Annie 
gave  me.  Their  dwelling  has  been  examined  by  a 
competent  person,  but  evidently  he  is  an  old  and 
experienced  criminal  and  knows  how  to  cover  up  his 
tracks.  I  think  it  extremely  providential  that  they 
did  nothing  worse  than  send  you  over  on  the  other 
side  of  the  mountain  in  order  to  clear  a  way  for 
escape.  Such  desperate  people  often  believe  only  in 
the  silence  of  death.  They  might  have  caused  that 
dog  to  tear  you  to  pieces  and  have  appeared  blame 
less  themselves.  If  caught,  only  your  testimony 
could  convict  them,  though  I  suspect  Mrs.  Tompkins 
and  her  son.  Young  Tompkins  brought  them  with 
their  luggage  to  the  depot.  He  says  the  man  called 
4  Vight '  met  him  returning  from  the  delivery  of  a 
load  of  wood,  and  engaged  his  services.  As  he  often 
does  teaming  for  people  in  those  back  districts  his 
story  is  plausible ;  and  he  swears  he  knew  nothing 
against  the  man.  But  he  is  a  bad  drinking  fellow,  and 
just  the  one  to  become  an  accomplice  in  any  rascal, 
ity.  I  fear  they  will  all  escape  us,  and  yet  I  am 
profoundly  grateful  that  matters  are  no  worse." 

While  Mr.  Walton  was  talking,  Gregory  was  look 
ing  intently  at  Annie.  She  was  conscious  of  his 
scrutiny,  and  her  color  rose  under  it,  but  she  con 
tinued  to  gaze  steadily  at  the  fire. 

"  And  I  am  going  to  increase  that  gratitude  a  hun 
dred-fold,  sir,"  he  said,  earnestly. 

Annie  looked  up  at  him  with  a  startled,  depreca 
tory  air.  "  No,  Miss  Walton,"  he  said,  answering 


OF  ORDINAR  Y  CLA  Y.  257 

her  look,  '*  I  will  not  be  silent.  While  it  is  due  to 
your  generosity  that  the  world  does  not  hear  of  your 
heroism  as  the  story  would  naturally  be  told,  it  is 
your  father's  right  that  he  should  hear  it,  and  know 
the  priceless  jewel  that  he  has  in  his  daughter.  I 
know  that  appearances  will  be  against  me.  If  you 
can  take  her  view  of  the  matter,  sir,  I  shall  be  glad, 
otherwise  I  cannot  help  it ;  "  and  he  related  the 
events  as  they  had  actually  occurred,  softening  or 
palliating  his  course  in  not  the  slightest  degree. 

Mr.  Walton  turned  ashen  pale  as  he  thus  for  the 
first  time  learned  the  desperate  nature  of  his  daugh 
ter's  peril.  Then  rising  with  a  sudden  impulse  of 
pride  and  affection  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms. 

Gregory  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  when  Mr. 
Walton's  voice  detained  him. 

"  Do  not  go,  sir.  You  will  pardon  a  father's 
weakness." 

"  Father,  I  give  you  my  word  and  honor,"  cried 
Annie,  eagerly,  "  that  Mr.  Gregory  did  not  act  the 
part  of  a  coward.  He  scarcely  does  himself  justice 
in  his  story.  He  did  not  realize  the  principle 
involved,  and  saw  in  the  promise  he  gave  the 
readiest  way  out  of  an  awkward  and  dangerous 
predicament.  He  did  not  think  the  man's  crime 
was  any  of  our  business — " 

"  There  is  no  need  of  pleading  Mr.  Gregory's  cause 
so  earnestly,  my  dear,"  interrupted  her  father.  "  I 
think  I  understand  his  course  fully,  and  share  your 
view  of  it.  I  am  too  well  accustomed  to  the  taking 
of  evidence  not  to  detect  the  ring  of  truth." 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  sir,  what  a  relief  it  is  to  me  that 
you  and  Miss  Walton  can  judge  thus  correctly  of  my 
action.  This  morning  and  yesterday  I  believed  that 
you  and  all  the  world  would  regard  me  as  the  mean 
est  of  cowards,  and  the  bitterness  of  death  was  in  the 
thought." 

"No,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  kindly  but  gravely; 
"your  course  did  not  result  from  cowardice.  But 
permit  an  old  man  and  your  father's  friend  to  say? 
that  it  did  result  from  the  lack  of  high  moral  princi 
ple.  Its  want  in  this  case  might  have  been  fatal,  for 
the  world,  as  you  feared,  would  scarcely  do  you  jus 
tice.  Let  it  be  a  lesson  to  you,  my  dear  young 
friend,  that  only  the  course  which  is  strictly  right  is 
safe,  even  as  far  as  this  world  is  concerned." 

Gregory's  face  flushed  deeply,  but  he  bowed  his 
head  in  humility  at  the  rebuke. 

"At  the  same  time,"  continued  Mr.  Walton,  "it 
was  manly  in  you  to  state  the  case  frankly  to  me 
as  you  have  done ;  for  you  knew  that  you  might 
shield  yourself  behind  Annie's  silence." 

"  It  was  simply  your  right  to  know  it,"  said  Greg 
ory,  in  a  low  tone. 

After  a  few  moments  of  musing  silence,  Annie 
said,  earnestly,  "  I  do  so  pity  that  poor  woman  !  " 

"  I  imagine  she  is  little  better  than  her  companion," 
said  Mr.  Walton. 

"  Indeed  she  is,  father,"  said  Annie,  eagerly.  "  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  I  feel  for  her,  and  I  know  from 
her  manner  and  words  that  her  guilty  life  is  a  crush 
ing  burden.  It  must  be  a  terrible  thing  to  a  woman 


OP  ORDINAR  Y  CLA  Y.  f  .- 

capable  of  good  (as  she  is),  and  wishing  to  live  a 
true  life,  to  be  irrevocably  bound  to  a  man  utterly 
bad." 

"  She  is  not  so  bound  to  him,"  said  her  father ; 
"  can  she  not  leave  him  ?  " 

"  Ah !  there  comes  in  a  mystery,"  she  replied,  and 
the  subject  dropped.  Soon  after,  they  separated  for 
the  night. 

But  Gregory  had  much  food  for  painful  thought. 
After  the  experience  of  that  day  his  chief  desire 
was  to  stand  well  in  Miss  Walton's  esteem.  And 
yet  how  did  he  stand — how  could  he  stand,  being 
what  he  was?  He  was  not  conscious  of  love  for 
her  as  yet.  He  would  have  been  satisfied  if  she  had 
said,  "  I  will  be  your  friend  in  the  truest  sense  of 
the  word."  He  had  no  small  vanity,  and  understood 
her  kindness.  She  was  trying  to  do  good  to  him  as 
she  would  to  any  one  else.  She  was  sorry  for  him 
as  for  the  wretched  woman  who  also  found  an  evil 
life  bitter,  but  she  could  never  think  of  him  as  a 
dear,  congenial,  trusted  friend.  Even  her  father,  in 
her  presence,  had  rebuked  his  lack  of  principle, 
asserting  that  his  nature  was  like  the  vile  weed  ;  and 
this  had  been  proved  every  day  of  his  visit.  If  she 
should  come  to  know  of  his  purpose  and  effort  to 
tempt  her  into  the  display  of  petty  weakness  and 
lack  of  principle  herself,  would  she  not  regard  him 
as  "utterly  bad,"  and  shrink  with  loathing  even 
from  the  bonds  of  friendship  ? 

He  was  learning  the  lesson  that  wrong  sooner  or 
later  will  bring  its  own  punishment,  and  that  the  lit* 


26o  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

tie  experiment  upon  which  he  had  entered  as  a 
relief  from  ennui  might  become  the  impassable  gulf 
between  him  and  happiness ;  for  he  knew  that,  if 
their  relations  ever  verged  toward  mutual  confi 
dence,  she  would  ask  questions  that  would  render 
lies  his  only  escape.  He  could  not  sink  to  that 
resort.  It  was  late  before  he  found  in  sleep  refuge 
from  painful  thoughts. 

The  next  day  he  was  much  alone.  The  news  of 
their  adventure  having  got  abroad,  many  because  of 
their  sincere  regard  for  Annie,  and  not  a  few  out  of 
curiosity,  called  to  talk  the  matter  over.  After 
meeting  one  or  two  of  these  parties,  and  witnessing 
the  modesty  and  grace  with  which  Annie  satisfied 
and  foiled  their  curiosity  at  the  same  time,  he  was 
glad  to  escape  further  company  in  a  long  and  soli 
tary  ramble.  The  air  was  mild,  so  that  he  could 
take  rest  in  sunny  nooks,  and  thus  he  spent  most  of 
the  day  by  himself.  His  conscience  was  awakened, 
and  the  more  pure  and  beautiful  Annie's  character 
grew  in  his  estimation,  the  more  dastardly  his 
attempt  upon  it  seemed.  Never  before  had  his  evil 
life  appeared  so  hideous  and  hateful. 

And  yet  his  remorse  had  nothing  in  it  of  true 
penitence.  It  was  rather  a  bitter,  impotent  revolt 
at  what  he  regarded  as  cruel  necessity.  Now  that 
he  had  been  forced  to  abandon  his  theory  that  peo- 
pie  are  good  as  they  are  untempted,  he  adopted 
another,  which,  if  it  left  him  in  a  miserable  predica 
ment,  exonerated  him  from  blame.  He  had  stated 
it  to  Annie  when  he  said.  "  You  are  made  of  differ* 


OF  ORDINAR  Y  CLA  Y.  261 

ent  clay  from  other  people."  He  tried  hard  to 
believe  this,  and  partially  succeeded.  "It  is  her 
nature  to  be  good,  and  mine  to  be  evil,"  he  often 
said  to  himself  that  long  and  lonely  day.  "  I  have 
had  a  fatal  gravitation  toward  evil  ever  since  I  can 
remember.'* 

But  this  was  not  true.  Indeed,  it  could  be  proved 
out  of  his  own  memory  that  he  had  had  as  many 
good  and  noble  impulses  as  the  majority,  and  that 
circumstances  had  not  been  more  adverse  to  him 
than  to  numerous  others.  He  was  dimly  conscious 
of  these  facts,  though  he  tried  to  shut  his  eyes  to 
them. 

A  man  finally  gets  justice  at  the  bar  of  his  own 
conscience,  but  it  is  extorted  gradually,  reluctantly, 
with  much  befogging  of  the  case. 

Still  this  theory  would  not  help  him  much  with 
Annie  Walton,  for  he  knew  that  she  would  never 
entertain  it  a  moment. 

Thus  he  wandered  for  hours  amid  old  scenes  and 
boyish  haunts,  utterly  oblivious  of  them,  brooding 
more  and  more  darkly  and  despondingly  over  his 
miserable  lot.  He  tried  to  throw  off  the  burden  of 
depressing  thought  by  asking,  in  sudden  fierceness^ 
"  Well,  what  is  Annie  Walton  to  me  ?  I  have  only 
known  her  a  short  time,  and  having  lived  thus  long, 
can  live  the  rest  of  my  days — probably  few — with 
out  her." 

But  it  was  of  no  use.  His  heart  would  not  echo 
the  words,  but  in  its  very  depths  a  voice  clear  and 
distinct  seemed  to  say,  "  I  want  to  be  with  her — to 
be  near  her.  With  her,  the  hours  are  winged ; 


262  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

away,  they  are  leaden-footed.  She  awakens  hope, 
she  makes  it  appear  possible  to  be  a  man." 

He  remembered  her  hand  upon  his  aching  brow, 
and  groaned  aloud  in  view  of  the  gulf  that  his  own 
life  had  placed  between  them. 

"  '  Neither  can  they  pass  to  us/  "  he  said,  uncon 
sciously  repeating  the  words  of  Scripture.  "  With 
her  nature  what  I  know  it  to  be,  she  cannot  in  any 
way  ally  it  to  mine." 

As  the  shadows  of  evening  deepened  he  sauntered 
wearily  and  despondingly  to  the  house.  There  were 
still  guests  in  the  parlor,  and  he  passed  up  to  his 
room.  For  the  first  time  he  found  it  chilly  and 
fireless.  It  had  evidently  been  forgotten,  and  he  felt 
himself  neglected  ;  and  it  seemed  that  he  could  drop 
out  of  existence  unnoted  and  uncared  for.  In  what 
had  been  his  own  home,  the  place  where  for  so  many 
years  he  had  experienced  the  most  thoughtful  ten 
derness,  there  came  over  him  a  sense  of  loneliness 
and  desolation  such  as  he  had  never  before  known 
or  believed  possible.  He  felt  himself  orphaned  of 
heaven  and  earth,  of  God  and  man. 

But  a  process  had  commenced  in  Annie's  mind 
that  would  have  surprised  him  much.  Uncon 
sciously  as  yet  even  to  herself,  she  was  disproving 
his  "  superior  clay "  theory.  Though  carefully 
trained,  and  though  for  years  she  had  prayerfully 
sought  to  do  right,  still  she  was  a  true  daughter  of 
Eve,  and  was  often  betrayed  by  human  weakness. 
She  had  not  the  small,  habitual  vanity  of  some 
pretty  women,  who  take  admiration  and  flattery  as 


OF  ORDIXAR  Y  CLA  Y,  263 

their  due,  and  miss  it  as  they  do  their  meals.  Still 
there  were  pride  and  vanity  in  her  composition,  and 
the  causes  that  would  naturally  develop  them  were 
now  actively  at  work.  She  considered  herself  plain 
and  unattractive  personally,  and  so  she  was  to  the 
careless  glance  of  a  stranger,  but  she  speedily 
became  beautiful,  or,  what  was  better,  fascinating, 
to  those  who  learned  to  know  her  well.  All  are  apt 
to  learn  their  strong  points  rather  than  their  weak 
ones,  and  Annie  had  no  little  confidence  in  her 
power  to  win  the  attention  and  then  the  respect  and 
regard  of  those  whose  eyes  turned  away  indifferently 
after  the  first  perception  of  her  lack  of  beauty.  She 
did  not  use  this  power  like  a  coquette,  but  still  she 
exulted  in  it,  and  was  pleased  to  employ  it  where  she 
could  innocently.  She  was  amused  by  Gregory's  sub* 
lime  indifference  at  first,  and  thought  she  could  soon 
change  that  condition  of  his  mind.  She  did  not 
know  that  she  was  successful  beyond  her  expecta 
tion  or  wishes. 

But  while  she  rejected  and  was  not  affected  by 
the  fulsome  flattery  with  which  he  at  first  plied  her, 
detecting  in  it  the  ring  of  insincerity,  she  had  noted, 
with  not  a  little  self-gratulation,  how  speedily  she 
had  made  him  conscious  of  her  existence  and  devel 
oped  a  growing  interest.  She  knew  nothing  of  his 
deliberate  plot  against  her,  or  of  its  motive.  There 
fore  his  manner  had  often  puzzled  her,  but  she 
explained  everything  by  saying,  "  He  has  lived  too 
long  in  Paris." 

Still  it  is  justice  to  her  to  say  that  while,  from 


264  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

the  natural  love  of  power  existing  in  every  breast, 
she  had  her  own  little  complacencies,  and  often 
times  of  positive  pride  and  self-glorification,  yet  she 
struggled  against  such  tendencies,  and  in  the  main 
she  earnestly  sought  to  use  for  their  own  good  the 
influence  she  gained  over  others. 

But  of  late  there  had  been  enough  to  turn  a 
stronger  head  than  hers.  Gregory's  homage  and 
admiration  were  now  sincere,  and  she  knew  it,  and 
it  was  no  trifling  thing  to  win  such  unbounded 
esteem  from  a  man  who  had  seen  so  much  of  the 
world  and  was  so  critical.  "  He  may  be  bad  him 
self,  but  he  well  knows  what  is  good  and  noble," 
was  a  thought  that  often  recurred  to  her.  Then, 
in  a  moment  of  sudden  and  terrible  peril,  she  had 
been  able  to  master  her  strong  natural  timidity,  and 
be  true  to  conscience,  and  while  she  thanked  God 
sincerely,  she  also  was  more  and  more  inclined  to  take 
a  great  deal  of  credit  to  herself.  Gregory's  words 
kept  repeating  themselves,  "  You  are  made  of  differ 
ent  clay  from  others."  While  she  knew  that  this 
was  not  true  as  he  meant  it,  still  the  tempter  whis 
pered,  "  You  are  naturally  superior,  and  you  have  so 
schooled  yourself  that  you  are  better  than  many  oth 
ers."  Her  father's  intense  look  of  pride  and  pleasure 
when  he  first  learned  of  her  fortitude,  and  his  strong 
words  of  thankfulness,  she  took  as  incense  to  herself. 
Then  came  a  flock  of  eager,  curious,  sympathizing 
people,  who  continued  to  feed  her  aroused  pride  by 
making  her  out  a  sort  of  heroine.  Chief  of  all  she 
was  complacent  in  the  consciousness  of  so  generously 


OF  ORDINAR  Y  CLA  Y.  265 

shielding  Gregory  when,  if  she  had  told  the  whole 
story,  she,  in  contrast  with  him,  would  appear  to  far 
greater  advantage. 

Altogether,  her  opinion  of  Annie  Walton  was  ris 
ing  with  dangerous  rapidity ;  and  the  feeling  grew 
strong  within  her  that,  having  coped  successfully 
with  such  temptations,  she  had  little  to  fear  from 
the  future.  And  this  feeling  of  overweening  self- 
confidence  and  self-satisfaction  was  beginning  to 
tinge  her  manner.  Not  that  she  would  ever  show 
it  offensively,  for  she  was  too  much  of  a  lady  for 
that.  But  at  the  supper-table  that  evening  she  gave 
evident  signs  of  elation  and  excitement  She  talked 
more  than  usual,  and  was  often  very  positive  in  mat 
ters  where  Gregory  knew  her  to  be  wrong;  and  she 
was  also  a  little  dictatorial.  At  the  same  time  the 
excitement  made  her  conversation  more  brilliant  and 
pointed,  and  as  Gregory  skilfully  drew  her  out,  he 
was  surprised  at  the  force  and  freshness  of  her  mind. 

And  yet  there  was  something  that  jarred  unpleas 
antly,  a  lack  of  the  sincere  simplicity  and  self-forget- 
fulness  which  were  her  usual  characteristics.  He  had 
never  known  her  to  use  the  pronoun  "  I"  with  such 
distinctness  and  emphasis  before.  Still  all  this  would 
not  have  seemed  strange  to  him  in  another,  but  it 
did  in  her. 

She  did  not  notice  the  cloud  upon  his  brow,  or 
that  he  spoke  only  in  order  to  lead  her  to  talk.  She  was 
too  much  preoccupied  with  herself  for  her  custom 
ary  quick  sympathy  with  the  moods  of  others.  She 
made  no  inquiries  as  to  how  he  had  spent  the  day, 


266  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  seemingly  had  forgotten  him  as  completely  as 
he  had  been  absorbed  in  her.  He  saw  with  a 
deeper  regret  than  he  could  understand  that,  except 
when  he  awakened  her  pity  by  suffering,  or  enter- 
tained  her  by  his  conversation  as  any  stranger 
might,  he  apparently  had  no  hold  upon  her 
thoughts. 

After  supper,  in  answer  to  the  children's  demand 
for  stories,  she  said  almost  petulantly  that  she  was 
"too  tired,"  and  permitted  Aunt  Eulie  to  take  them 
with  sorrowful  faces  away  to  bed  earlier  than 
usual. 

"  I  need  a  little  rest  and  quiet,"  she  said. 

Gregory  was  eager  for  further  conversation  in  order 
that  he  might  obtain  some  idea  how  mercy  would 
tinge  her  judgment  of  him  if  she  should  ever  come 
to  know  the  worst,  but  she  suddenly  seemed  disin 
clined  to  talk,  or  give  him  any  attention  at  all. 

Taking  the  arm-chair  he  usually  occupied,  and 
leaving  the  other  for  her  father,  she  leaned  back 
luxuriously  and  gazed  dreamily  into  the  fire.  Mr. 
Walton  politely  offered  Gregory  his.  Then  Annie, 
suddenly,  as  if  awakening,  rose  and  said,  "  Excuse 
me,"  and  was  about  to  vacate  her  seat. 

But  Gregory  insisted  upon  her  keeping  it,  saying, 
"You  need  it  more  than  I, after  the  unusual  fatigues 
of  the  day.  I  am  no  longer  an  invalid.  Even  the 
ache  in  my  bones  from  my  cold  has  quite  disap 
peared." 

She  readily  yielded  to  his  wish,  and  again  appeared 
to  see  something  in  tke  fire  that  quite  absorbed  her. 


OF  ORDINAR  Y  CLA  Y.  267 

After  receiving  a  few  courteous  monosyllables  he 
apparently  busied  himself  with  a  magazine. 

Suddenly  she  said  to  her  father,  "Are  you  sure  the 
steamer  is  due  to-day?  " 

He  replied  with  a  nod  and  a  smile  that  Gregory 
did  not  understand,  and  he  imagined  that  she  also 
gave  him  a  quick  look  of  vexed  perplexity. 

She  did,  for  by  that  steamer  she  expected  her 
lover,  Mr.  Hunting,  who  had  been  abroad  on  a  brief 
business  visit,  and  she  hoped  that  in  a  day  or  two  he 
would  make  his  appearance.  Conscious  of  the  bitter 
enmity  that  Gregory  for  some  unknown  reason  cher 
ished  toward  him,  she  dreaded  their  meeting.  As 
Gregory  watched  her  furtively,  her  brow  contracted 
into  a  positive  frown.  The  following  thoughts  were 
the  cause : 

"  It  will  be  exceedingly  stiff  and  awkward  to  have 
two  guests  in  the  house  who  are  scarcely  on  speaking 
terms,  and  unless  I  can  make  something  like  peace, 
it  will  be  unendurable.  Moreover,  I  don't  want  any 
strangers  around,  much  less  this  one,  while  Charles 
is  here." 

Thus  in  the  secret  of  her  soul  Annie's  hospitality 
gave  out  utterly,  and  in  spirit  she  had  incontinently 
turned  an  unwelcome  guest  out  of  doors.  Now 
that  she  had  really  won  a  vantage  ground  that  could 
be  used  effectively,  all  her  Christian  and  kindly  pur* 
poses  were  forgotten  in  the  self-absorption  that  had 
suddenly  mastered  her. 

The  evening  was  a  painful  one  to  Gregory.  His 
sense  of  loneliness  was  deepened,  and  nowhere  is 


268  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

such  a  feeling  stronger  than  at  a  fireside  where  one 
feels  that  he  has  no  right.  Mr.  Walton  was  occu 
pied  that  evening  with  some  business  papers.  He 
had  not  a  thought  of  discourtesy  toward  his  guest. 
Indeed,  in  the  perfection  of  hospitality,  he  had 
adopted  Gregory  so  completely  into  his  household 
that  he  felt  that  he  could  treat  him  as  one  of  the 
family.  And  yet  Mr.  Walton  was  also  secretly 
uneasy  at  the  prospect  of  entertaining  hostile  guests, 
and,  with  his  knowledge  of  the  world,  was  not  sure 
that  peace  between  them  could  be  made  in  an  hour. 

The  disposition  of  those  around  us  often  creates 
an  atmosphere,  nothing  tangible  but  something  felt ; 
and  the  impression  on  Gregory's  mind,  that  he  be 
longed  not  to  this  household,  but  to  the  outside 
world, — that  the  circle  of  their  lives  did  not  embrace 
him,  and  that  his  visit  might  soon  come  to  an  end 
without  much  regret  on  their  part, — was  not  without 
cause.  And  yet  they  would  have  consciously  failed 
in  no  duty  of  hospitality  had  he  stayed  for  weeks. 

But  never  before  had  Gregory  so  felt  his  isolation. 
He  had  but  few  relatives,  and  they  were  not  con 
genial.  His  life  abroad,  and  neglect,  had  made 
them  comparative  strangers.  But  here,  in  the  home 
of  his  childhood,  the  dearest  spot  of  earth,  were 
those  who  might  become  equally  loved  with  it.  In 
a  dim,  obscure  way  the  impression  was  growing 
upon  him  that  his  best  chance  for  life  and  happiness 
still  centred  in  the  place  where  he  had  once  known 
true  life  and  happiness.  Annie  Walton  seemed  to 
him  the  embodiment  of  life.  She  was  governed  and 


OF  ORDINAR  Y  CLA  Y.  269 

sustained  by  a  principle  which  he  could  not  under 
stand,  and  which  from  his  soul  he  was  beginning  to 
covet. 

His  good  father  and  mother  had  been  like  old  Mr. 
Walton.  Their  voyage  of  life  was  nearly  over  as  he 
remembered  them,  and  they  were  entering  the  quiet, 
placid  waters  of  the  harbor.  Whether  they  had 
reached  their  haven  of  rest  through  storm  and 
temptation,  he  did  not  know,  but  felt  that  they 
never  could  have  had  his  unfortunate  experience  or 
been  threatened  with  utter  wreck.  They  belonged 
to  his  happier  yet  vanished  past,  which  could  never 
return. 

But  Annie  unexpectedly  awakened  hope  for  the 
present  and  future.  This  eager-eyed,  joyous  girl, 
looking  forward  with  almost  a  child's  delight  to  the 
life  he  dreaded, — this  patient  woman  already  taking 
up  the  cares  and  burdens  of  her  lot  with  cheerful 
acceptance, — this  strong,  high-principled  maiden, 
facing  and  mastering  temptation  in  the  spirit  of  the 
olden  time, — this  daughter  of  nature  was  full  of 
inspiration.  Never  had  he  found  her  society  a 
weariness.  On  the  contrary  she  had  stirred  his 
slow,  feeble  pulse,  and  revived  his  jaded  mind,  from 
the  first.  Her  pure,  fresh  thought  and  feeling  had 
been  like  a  breath  from  an  oasis  to  one  perishing  in 
the  desert.  But  chiefly  had  her  kindness,  delicacy, 
and  generosity,  when  in  his  moral  and  physical 
weakness  he  had  been  completely  at  her  mercy,  won 
his  deepest  gratitude.  Also  he  felt  that  in  all  his  after 
life  he  could  never  even  think  of  her  touch  upon  his 


270  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

aching  temples  without  an  answering  thrill  of  his 
whole  nature  that  appeared  to  have  an  innate  sym 
pathy  with  hers. 

And  yet  the  exasperating  mystery  of  it  all ! 
While  she  was  becoming  the  one  source  of  life  and 
hope  for  him,  while  his  very  soul  cried  out  for  her 
friendship  and  sisterly  regard  (as  he  would  then 
have  said),  she  seemed,  in  her  preoccupation,  uncon 
scious  of  his  existence,  and  he  instinctively  felt  that 
she  would  bid  him  "  good-by  "  on  the  following  day, 
perhaps,  with  a  sense  of  relief,  and  the  current  of 
her  life  flow  on  as  smoothly  and  brightly  as  if  he 
had  never  caused  a  passing  agitation. 

With  gnawing  remorse  he  inwardly  cursed  his  evil 
life  and  unworthy  character,  for  these  he  believed 
formed  the  hopeless  gulf  that  separated  them. 

"  It  is  the  same,"  he  said,  in  his  exaggerating  way, 
"as  if  a  puddle  should  mirror  the  star  just  above  it, 
and,  becoming  enamored,  should  wish  it  to  fall  and 
be  quenched  in  its  foul  depths." 

But  he  did  himself  great  wrong ;  for  in  the  fact  that 
Annie  so  attracted  him  he  proved  that  he  possessed 
large  capabilities  of  good. 

He  could  not  bear  to  see  her  sitting  there  so 
quietly  forgetful  of  him,  and  so  made  several  vain 
attempts  during  the  evening  to  draw  her  into  con 
versation.  Finding  hef  disinclined  to  talk,  he  at 
last  ventured  to  ask  her  to  sing.  With  something 
like  coldness  she  replied,  "Really,  Mr.  Gregory,  I 
am  not  in  the  mood  for  it  this  evening ;  besides,  I 
am  greatly  fatigued." 


OF  ORDINAR  Y  CLA  Y.  271 

What  a  careless,  indifferent  shrug  he  usually  gave 
when  fair  ladies  denied  his  requests  !  Now,  for  some 
unaccountable  reason,  he  flushed  deeply  and  a  sharp 
pain  came  into  his  heart.  But  he  only  said,  "  Par 
don  me,  Miss  Walton,  for  not  seeing  this  myself. 
But  you  know  that  I  am  selfishness  embodied,  and 
your  former  good-nature  leads  me  to  presume." 

Annie  gave  him  a  hurried  smile,  as  she  answered, 
"  Another  time  I  will  try  to  keep  up  my  character 
better ; "  and  then  she  was  absorbed  again  in  a  pic 
ture  among  the  hickory  coals. 

Like  many  who  live  in  the  country  and  are  much 
alone,  she  was  given  to  fits  of  abstraction  and  long 
reveries.  She  had  no  idea  how  the  time  was  pass 
ing,  and  meant  to  exert  herself  before  the  evening 
was  over  for  the  benefit  of  her  father  and  guest. 
But  her  lively  imagination  could  not  endure  inter 
ruption  till  it  had  completed  some  scenes  connected 
with  him  she  hoped  so  soon  to  see.  Moreover,  as 
we  have  said,  the  tendency  to  self-absorption  had 
been  developing  rapidly. 

After  the  last  rebuff,  Gregory  was  very  quiet,  and 
soon  rose  and  excused  himself,  saying  that  he  had 
taken  longer  walks  than  usual  and  needed  rest. 

Annie  awakened,  as  if  out  of  a  dream,  with  a  pang 
of  self-reproach,  and  said,  "  I  have  been  a  wretched 
hostess  this  evening.  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me. 
The  fact  is,  I've  been  talked  out  to-day." 

"  And  I  had  not  the  wit  to  entertain  and  interest 
you,  so  I  need  forgiveness  more.  Good-night. " 

Mr.  Walton  looked  up  from  his  business  papers 


272  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  smiled  genially  over  his  spectacles,  and  then 
was  as  absorbed  as  before. 

Annie  sat  down  with  a  vague  sense  of  discontent. 
With  their  guest,  her  dreams  also  had  gone,  and  she 
became  conscious  that  she  had  treated  him  with 
almost  rude  neglect,  and  that  he  had  borne  it  in  a 
spirit  different  from  that  which  he  usually  showed. 
But  she  petulantly  said  to  herself,  "  I  can't  always 
be  exerting  myself  for  him  as  if  he  were  a  sick 
child." 

But  conscience  replied,  "  You  have  so  much  to 
make  you  happy,  and  he  so  little  !  You  are  on  the 
eve  of  a  great  joy,  and  you  might  have  given  him 
one  more  pleasant  evening." 

But  she  met  these  accusations  with  a  harshness  all 
unlike  herself.  "  It's  his  own  fault  that  he  is  not 
happy.  He  had  no  business  to  spoil  his  life." 

"  Yes,"  retorted  conscience,  "  but  you  have  prom 
ised  and  purposed  to  help  him  find  the  true  life,  and 
now  you  wish  him  out  of  the  way,  and  have  lost  one 
of  your  best  opportunities  and  perhaps  your  last ; 
for  he  will  not  stay  after  Hunting  comes  ;"  and,  self- 
condemned,  she  felt  that  she  had  spent  a  very  selfish 
and  profitless  evening. 

For  some  reason  she  did  not  feel  like  staying  to 
prayers  with  her  father  and  Miss  Eulie,  who  now 
came  in,  but,  printing  a  hasty  kiss  on  Mr.  Walton's 
cheek,  said,  "Good-night.  I'm  tired,  and  going  to 
bed."  Even  in  her  own  room  there  was  a  malign 
influence  at  work  that  made  her  devotion  forma) 
and  brief,  and  she  went  to  sleep,  "  out  of  sorts. " 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

PASSION  AND   PENITENCE. 

THE  cloud  on  her  brow  had  not  disappeared  on  the 
ensuing  morning  when  she  came  down  to  break 
fast.  Unless  the  causes  are  removed,  the  bad  moods 
of  one  day  are  apt  to  follow  us  into  the  next. 

Annie  was  now  entering  upon  one  of  those 
periods  when,  in  accordance  with  a  common  expres 
sion,  "  everything  goes  wrong,"  and  the  world 
develops  a  sudden  perverseness  that  distracts  and 
irritates  even  the  patient. 

The  butcher  had  neglected  to  fill  the  order  for 
breakfast,  and  Jeff,  also  under  the  baleful  spell,  had 
killed  an  ancient  hen  instead  of  a  spring  chicken,  to 
supply  the  sudden  need. 

"Couldn't  cotch  nothin'  else," he  answered  stolidly 
to  Annie's  sharp  reprimand,  so  sharp  that  Gregory, 
who  was  walking  toward  the  barn,  was  surprised. 

Zibbie  was  fuming  in  the  broadest  Scotch,  and  had 
spoiled  her  coffee,  and  altogether  it  was  a  sorry 
breakfast  to  which  they  sat  down  that  morning  ;  and 
Annie's  worried,  vexed  looks  did  not  make  it  more 
inviting.  Gregory  tried  to  appear  unconscious,  and 
directed  his  conversation  chiefly  to  Mr.  Walton  and 
Miss  Eulie. 


274  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Annie/'  said  her  father,  humorously,  "  it  seems 
to  me  that  this  fowl  must  have  had  reminiscences  of 
the  ark." 

But  she  could  not  take  a  jest  then,  and  pettishly 
answered  that  "  if  he  kept  such  stupid  men  as  Jeff, 
he  could  not  expect  anything  else." 

Annie  was  Jeff's  best  friend,  and  had  interceded 
for  him  in  some  of  his  serious  scrapes,  but  her  mood 
now  was  like  a  gusty  day  that  gives  discomfort  to 
all. 

After  a  few  moments  she  said,  suddenly,  "Q 
father,  I  forgot  to  tell  you.  I  invited  the  Camdens 
here  to  dinner  to-day." 

His  face  clouded  instantly,  and  he  looked  exceed 
ingly  annoyed. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it,"  he  said. 

"Why  so?"  asked  Annie,  with  an  accent  that 
Gregory  had  never  heard  her  use  toward  her 
father. 

"  Because  I  shall  have  to  be  absent,  for  one 
reason.  I  meant  to  tell  you  about  it  last  evening, 
but  you  seemed  so  occupied  with  your  own 
thoughts,  and  disappeared  at  last  so  suddenly,  that 
I  did  not  get  a  chance.  But  there  is  no  help  for  it. 
I  have  very  important  business  that  will  take  me  out 
to  Woodville,  and  you  know  it  requires  a  good  long 
day  to  go  and  come." 

"  It  will  never  do  in  the  world  for  you  to  be 
away,"  cried  Annie. 

"  Can't  help  it,  my  dear ;  it's  business  that  must 
be  attended  to." 


PA  SSION  AND  PENITENCE.  275 

"  But,  father,"  she  urged,  "  the  Camdens  are  new 
people,  and  said  to  be  very  wealthy.  We  ought  to 
show  them  some  attention.  They  were  so  cordial 
yesterday,  and  spoke  so  handsomely  of  you,  express 
ing  a  wish  to  meet  you  and  be  social,  that  I  felt 
that  I  could  not  do  otherwise  than  invite  them.  For 
reasons  you  understand  it  may  not  be  convenient  to 
see  them  very  soon  after  to-day." 

The  old  gentleman  seemed  to  share  his  daughter's 
vexation,  but  from  a  different  cause,  and  after  a 
moment  said,  "  You  are  right ;  they  are  '  new  people  ' 
in  more  senses  than  one,  and  appear  to  me  to  be 
assuming  a  great  deal  more  than  good  taste  dictates 
in  view  of  the  past.  As  mistress  of  my  home  I  wish 
you  to  feel  that  you  have  the  right  to  invite  any  one 
you  please,  within  certain  limits.  The  Camdens  are 
people  that  I  would  do  any  kindness  to  and  readily 
help  if  they  were  in  trouble,  but  I  do  not  wish  to 
meet  them  socially." 

Tears  of  shame  and  anger  glistened  in  Annie's 
eyes  as  she  said,  "  I'm  sure  you  know  very  well  that 
I  wish  to  entertain  no  vulgar,  pushing  people.  I 
knew  nothing  of  their  *  past/  They  seemed  pleas 
ant  when  they  called.  They  were  said  to  have  the 
means  to  be  liberal  if  they  wished,  and  I  thought 
they  would  be  an  acquisition  to  our  neighborhood, 
and  that  we  might  interest  them  in  our  church  and 
other  things." 

"  In  my  view,"  replied  Mr.  Walton,  a  little  hotly, 
"  the  church  and  every  good  cause  would  be  better 
off  without  their  money,  for,  in  plain  English,  it  was 


276  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  B  URR. 

acquired  in  a  way  that  you  and  I  regard  as  dishon. 
orable.  I'm  very  sorry  they've  come  to  spend  it  in 
our  neighborhood.  The  fact  may  not  be  generally 
known  here,  but  it  soon  will  be.  I  consider  such 
people  the  greatest  demoralizers  of  the  age,  flaunt 
ing  their  ill-gotten  wealth  in  the  faces  of  the  honest, 
and  causing  the  young  to  think  that  if  they  only  get 
money,  no  matter  how,  society  will  receive  them  all 
the  same.  I  am  annoyed  beyond  measure  that  we 
should  seem  to  give  them  any  countenance  what 
ever.  Moreover,  it  is  necessary  that  I  go  to  Wood- 
ville." 

"  O  dear  ! "  exclaimed  Annie,  in  a  tone  of  real  dis 
tress,  "what  shall  I  do?  If  I  had  only  known  all 
this  before !  "  Then,  turning  with  sudden  irritation 
to  her  father,  she  asked,  "  Why  did  you  not  tell  me 
about  them  ?  " 

"  Because  you  never  asked,  and  I  saw  no  occasion 
to.  I  do  not  like  to  speak  evil  of  my  neighbors, 
even  if  it  be  true.  I  did  not  know  of  your  call  upon 
them  till  after  it  occurred,  and  then  remarked,  if  you 
will  remember,  that  they  were  people  that  I  did  not 
admire." 

"Yes,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  strong  self- 
disgust,  "  I  do  remember  your  saying  so,  though  I 
had  no  idea  you  meant  anything  like  what  you  now 
state.  The  wretched  mystery  of  it  all  is,  why  could 
I  not  have  remembered  it  yesterday  ?  " 

"Well,  my  dear,"  replied  the  father,  with  the 
glimmer  of  a  smile,  "you  were  a  bit  preoccupied 
yesterday ;  though  I  don't  wonder  at  that." 


PA SSION  AND  PENITENCE.  277 

"  I  see  it  all  now,"  cried  Annie,  impetuously. 
"  But  it  was  with  myself  I  was  preoccupied,  and 
therefore  I  made  a  fool  of  myself.  I  was  rude  to 
you  last  night  also,  Mr.  Gregory,  so  taken  up  was  I 
with  my  own  wonderful  being." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  I  thought  you  were  think 
ing  of  another,"  said  he,  with  a  keen  glance,  and  she 
blushed  so  deeply  that  he  feared  she  was ;  but  he 
added,  quickly,  "  You  once  told  me  that  it  was  as 
wrong  to  judge  one's  self  harshly  as  another.  I 
assure  you  that  I've  no  complaints  to  make,  but 
rather  feel  gratitude  for  your  kindness.  As  to  this 
other  matter,  it  seems  to  me  that  in  your  ignorance 
of  these  people  you  have  acted  very  naturally." 

"  I'm  sorry  I  did  not  tell  you  more  about  them,'* 
said  her  father.  "  I  did  intend  to,  but  somehow  it 
escaped  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Annie,  with  a  long  breath,  "  I  am 
fairly  in  the  scrape.  I've  invited  them,  and  the 
question  now  is,  what  shall  we  do?" 

The  old  merchant,  with  his  intense  repugnance  to 
anything  like  commercial  dishonesty,  was  deeply 
perturbed.  The  idea  of  entertaining  at  his  board  as 
guest  a  man  with  whom  he  would  not  have  a  busi 
ness  transaction  was  exceedingly  disagreeable. 
Leaving  the  unsatisfactory  breakfast  half-finished, 
he  rose  and  paced  the  room  in  his  perplexity.  At 
last  he  spoke,  as  much  to  himself  as  to  his  daughter. 
"  It  shall  never  be  said  that  John  Walton  was 
deficient  in  hospitality.  They  have  been  invited  by 
one  who  had  the  right,  so  let  them  come,  and  be 


278  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

treated  as  guests  ever  are  at  our  house.  This  much 
is  due  to  ourselves.  But  after  to-day  let  our  rela 
tions  be  as  slight  as  possible.  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are 
under  no  obligation  to  meet  such  people,  and  need 
not  appear  unless  you  wish." 

"  With  your  permission  I  will  be  present,  sir,  and 
help  Miss  Walton  entertain  them.  Indeed,  I  can 
claim  such  slight  superiority  to  these  Camdens  or 
any  one  else  that  I  have  no  scruples." 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Walton,  with  a  grave, 
questioning  look.  "  I  trust  you  do  not  uphold  the 
theory  that  seems  to  prevail  in  some  commercial 
circles,  that  any  mode  by  which  a  man  can  get 
money  and  escape  State  prison  is  right  ?  " 

"  I  imagine  I  am  the  last  one  in  the  world  to 
uphold  such  a  '  theory,' "  replied  Gregory,  quickly, 
with  one  of  his  expressive  shrugs,  "  inasmuch  as  I 
am  a  poor  man  to-day  because  this  theory  has  been 
put  in  practice  against  me.  No,  Mr.  Walton,"  he 
continued,  with  the  dignity  of  truth,  "  it  is  but 
justice  to  myself  to  say  that  my  mercantile  life  has 
been  as  pure  as  your  own,  and  that  is  the  highest 
encomium  that  I  could  pass  upon  it.  At  the  same 
time  it  has  been  evident  to  you  from  the  first  day  I 
came  under  your  roof  that  I  am  not  the  good  man 
that  you  loved  in  my  father." 

The  old  gentleman  sighed  deeply.  He  was  too 
straightforward  to  utter  some  trite,  smooth  remark, 
such  as  a  man  of  the  world  might  make.  Regarding 
Gregory  kindly,  he  said,  almost  as  if  it  were  a  prayer, 
"  May  his  mantle  fall  on  you.  You  have  many 


PA  SSIOW  A ND  PENITENCE.  279 

traits  and  ways  that  remind  me  strongly  of  him,  and 
you  have  it  in  you  to  become  like  him." 

Gregory  shook  his  head  in  deep  dejection,  and 
said  in  a  low  tone,  "  No,  never." 

"  You  know  not  the  power  of  God,"  said  Mr. 
Walton,  gravely.  "At  any  rate,  thank  Him  that  He 
has  kept  you  from  the  riches  of  those  who  I  am 
sorry  to  find  must  be  our  guests  to-day." 

The  children  now  came  in  from  their  early  visit  to 
the  chestnut-trees,  and  the  subject  was  dropped. 
Mr.  Walton  left  the  room,  and  Gregory  also  excused 
himself.  Miss  Eulie  had  taken  no  part  in  the  dis 
cussion.  It  was  not  in  her  nature  to  do  so.  She 
sat  beaming  with  sympathy  on  both  Annie  and  her 
brother-in-law,  and  purposing  to  do  all  she  could  to 
help  both  out  of  the  dilemma.  She  felt  sorry  for 
them,  and  sorry  for  the  Camdens  and  Gregory,  and 
indeed  everybody  in  this  troubled  world ;  but  such 
were  her  pure  thoughts  and  spiritual  life  that  she 
was  generally  on  the  wing,  so  far  above  earthly 
things  that  they  had  little  power  to  depress  her. 

The  burden  of  the  day  fell  upon  Annie,  and  a 
heavy  one  she  found  it.  Her  lack  of  peace  within 
was  reflected  upon  her  face,  and  in  her  satellites  that 
she  usually  managed  with  such  quiet  grace.  Zibbie 
was  in  one  of  her  very  worst  tantrums,  and  when 
she  heard  that  there  was  to  be  company  to  dinner, 
seemed  in  danger  of  flying  into  fragments.  The 
thistle,  the  emblem  of  her  land,  was  a  meek  and 
downy  flower  compared  with  this  ancient  dame. 
When  she  took  up  or  laid  down  any  utensil,  it  was 


280  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

in  a  way  that  bade  fair  to  reduce  the  kitchen  to 
chaos  before  night.  Jeff  had  "  got  his  back  up  " 
also  about  the  hen,  and  was  as  stupid  and  sullen  as 
only  Jeff  knew  how  to  be  ;  and  even  quiet  Hannah 
was  almost  driven  to  frenzy  by  Zibbie  reproaching 
her  for  being  everything  under  heaven  that  she  knew 
she  was  not.  In  her  usual  state  of  mind  Annie  could 
have  partly  allayed  the  storm,  and  poured  oil  on  the 
troubled  waters,  but  now  disquietude  sat  on  her  own 
brow,  and  she  gave  her  orders  in  the  sharp,  decisive 
tone  that  compels  reluctant  obedience. 

The  day  was  raw  and  uncomfortable,  and  Gregory 
resolved  to  make  his  easy-chair  by  the  parlor  fire  the 
point  from  which  he  would  watch  the  development 
of  this  domestic  drama.  He  had  no  vulgar,  prying 
curiosity,  but  an  absorbing  interest  in  the  chief 
actor ;  and  was  compelled  to  admit  that  the  being 
whom  he  had  come  to  regard  as  faultless  was  grow 
ing  human  faster  than  he  liked. 

This  impression  was  confirmed  when  the  children 
came  tearing  through  the  main  hall  past  the  parlor 
to  the  dining-room  opposite,  which  they  entered, 
leaving  the  door  open.  Annie  was  there  preparing 
the  dessert.  Country  housekeepers  can  rarely  leave 
these  matters  to  rural  cooks,  and  Zibbie  could  be 
trusted  to  sweeten  nothing  that  day. 

With  exclamations  of  delight  the  children  clam 
ored  to  help,  or  "  muss  "  a  little  in  their  own  way,  a 
privilege  often  given  them  at  such  times.  But  Annie 
sent  them  out  of  doors  again  with  a  tone  and  man 
ner  that  caused  them  to  tiptoe  back  past  the  parlor 


PASSION  AND  PENITENCE.  281 

with  a  scared  look  on  their  little  faces,  and  the  din- 
ing-room  door  was  shut  with  a  bang. 

Gregory  was  puzzled.  Here  was  one  who  had 
foiled  his  most  adroit  temptations,  and  resisted 
wrong  in  a  way  that  was  simply  heroic,  first  showing 
something  very  like  vanity  and  selfishness,  and  then 
temper  and  passion  on  what  seemed  but  slight  pro 
vocation.  He  did  not  realize,  as  many  do  not,  that 
the  petty  vexations  of  life  will  often  sting  into  the 
most  humiliating  displays  of  weakness  one  who  has 
the  courage  and  strength  to  be  a  martyr.  Generals 
who  were  as  calm  and  grand  in  battle  as  Mont  Blanc 
in  a  storm  have  been  known  to  fume  like  small  beer, 
in  camp,  at  very  slight  annoyances. 

Annie's  spirit  was  naturally  quick  and  imperious, 
brooking  opposition  from  no  one.  She  was  also 
fond  of  approbation.  She  rated  Gregory's  hollow 
French  gallantry  at  its  true  worth,  but  his  subse 
quent  sincere  respect  and  admiration,  after  their 
mountain  adventure,  had  unconsciously  elated  her, 
especially  as  she  felt  that  she  had  earned  them  well. 

Thus,  when  he  had  not  intended  it,  and  had  given 
over  as  hopeless  his  purpose  to  tempt  her,  and 
dropped  it  in  self-loathing  that  he  should  ever  have 
entertained  it,  he  had  by  his  honest  gratitude  and 
esteem  awakened  the  dormant  vanity  which  was 
more  sensitive  to  tributes  to  her  character  than  to 
mere  personal  compliments.  The  attention  she  had 
received  the  day  before  had  developed  this  self- 
complacency  still  more,  and  the  nice  balance  of  her 
moral  life  had  been  disturbed. 


282  OPENING  A  CHE S TN UT  B  URR. 

It  seems  that  the  tempter  watches  for  every  van- 
tage.  At  any  rate,  as  she  expressed  it,  "  everything 
went  wrong  "  that  day.  One  weakness,  one  wrong, 
prepares  the  way  for  another  as  surely  as  when  one 
soldier  of  Diabolus  gets  within  the  city  he  will  open 
the  gates  to  others  ;  and  Annie's  temper,  that  she  had 
so  long  and  prayerfully  schooled,  was  the  weak  point 
inevitably  assailed.  She  was  found  with  her  armor 
off.  She  had  closed  the  preceding  day  and  entered 
on  the  present  with  the  form  and  not  the  reality  of 
prayer.  Therefore  it  was  Annie  Walton  alone  who 
was  coping  with  temptation.  She  felt  that  all  wa? 
wrong  without  and  within.  She  felt  that  she  ought 
to  go  to  God  at  once  in  acknowledgment  and  peni 
tence,  and  regain  her  peace ;  but  pride  and  passion 
were  aroused.  She  was  hurried  and  worried,  full  of 
impotent  revolt  at  herself  and  everything.  She  was 
in  no  mood  for  the  dreaded  self-examination  that  she 
knew  must  come.  She  was  like  a  little  wayward 
child,  that,  while  it  loves  its  parents,  yet  grieves  and 
wrongs  them  by  lack  of  obedience  and  simple  trust, 
and  having  wronged  them,  partly  from  pride  and 
partly  from  fear,  does  not  humbly  seek  reconcilia 
tion. 

The  obnoxious  guests  came,  and  the  dinner  fol 
lowed.  Mr.  Walton  was  the  embodiment  of  stately 
courtesy,  but  it  was  a  courtesy  due  to  John  Walton 
rather  than  to  them,  and  it  somewhat  awed  and 
depressed  the  Camdens.  Zibbie  had  done  her  best 
to  spoil  the  dinner,  and,  in  spite  of  Annie,  had  suc 
ceeded  tolerably  well.  Only  the  dessert,  which 


PA  SSION  AND  PENITENCE.  2  83 

Annie  had  made,  did  credit  to  her  housekeeping. 
Hannah  waited  on  them  as  if  she  were  assisting  at 
their  obsequies.  Altogether  it  was  a  rather  heavy 
affair,  though  Gregory  honestly  did  his  best  to  enter 
tain,  and  talked  on  generalities  and  life  abroad, 
which  the  Camdens  were  glad  to  hear  about,  so 
incessantly  that  he  scarcely  had  time  to  eat.  But  he 
was  abundantly  rewarded  by  a  grateful  look  from 
Annie. 

As  for  herself,  she  could  not  converse  connectedly 
or  well.  She  was  trammelled  by  her  feeling  toward 
the  guests ;  she  was  so  vexed  with  herself,  mortified 
at  the  dinner,  and  angry  with  Zibbie,  whom  she 
mentally  vowed  to  discharge  at  once,  that  she  felt 
more  like  crying  than  talking  graceful  nonsense  ;  for 
the  Camdens  soon  proved  themselves  equal  only  to 
chit-chat.  She  sat  at  her  end  of  the  table,  red, 
flurried,  and  nervous,  as  different  as  possible  from 
the  refined,  elegant  hostess  that  she  could  be. 

Gregory  was  also  much  interested  in  observing 
how  one  so  truthful  would  act  under  the  circum 
stances,  and  he  saw  that  she  was  sorely  puzzled 
continually  by  her  efforts  to  be  both  polite  and 
honest. 

The  Camdens  were  puzzled  also,  and  severely 
criticised  their  entertainers,  mentally  concluding  and 
afterward  asserting,  with  countless  variations,  that 
Miss  Walton  was  wonderfully  overrated, — that  she 
was  a  poor  housekeeper,  and,  they  should  judge,  but 
little  accustomed  to  good  society. 

"I  never  saw  a  girl  so  flustered,"  Mrs.  Camden 


284  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

would  remark,  complacently.  "Perhaps  our  city 
style  rather  oppressed  her ;  and  as  for  Mr.  Walton^ 
he  put  on  so  much  dignity  that  he  leaned  over 
backward.  They  evidently  don't  belong  to  our 
set." 

That  was  just  the  trouble,  and  Mrs.  Camden  was 
right  and  wrong  at  the  same  time. 

Their  early  departure  was  satisfactory  to  both 
parties.  Mr.  Walton  drew  a  long  breath  of  immeas, 
urable  relief,  and  then  called  briskly  to  Jeff,  who 
was  coming  up  from  the  garden,  "  Harness  Dolly  to 
my  buggy." 

"Why,  father,  where  are  you  going?"  exclaimed 
Annie. 

"  To  Woodville." 

"  Now,  father — "  began  Annie,  laying  hold  of  his 
arm. 

"  Not  a  word,  my  dear ;  I  must  go." 

"  But  it  will  be  late  in  the  night  before  you  can 
get  back.  The  day  is  cold  and  raw,  and  it  looks  as 
if  it  would  rain." 

"  I  can't  help  it.  It's  something  I  can't  put  off. 
Hurry,  Jeff,  and  get  ready  to  go  with  me." 

"  O  dear  !  "  cried  Annie  ;  "  this  is  the  worst  of  all. 
Let  me  go  for  you, — please  do." 

"  I'm  not  a  child,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  irrita 
bly.  "  Since  I  could  not  go  this  morning,  I  must  go 
now.  Please  don't  worry  me.  It's  public  business 
that  I  have  no  right  to  delay,  and  I  promised  that  it 
should  be  attended  to  to-day ; "  and  with  a  hasty 
"  good-by  "  he  took  his  overcoat  and  started. 


PASSION  AND  PENITENCE.  285 

Annie  was  almost  beside  herself  with  vexation 
and  self-reproach,  and  her  feelings  must  find  vent 
somewhere.  Gregory  prudently  retired  to  his  room. 

"There's  Zibbie,"  she  thought;  "I'll  teach  her 
one  lesson ;"  and  she  went  to  the  kitchen  and  dis 
charged  the  old  servant  on  the  spot. 

Zibbie  was  in  such  a  reckless  state  of  passion  that 
she  didn't  care  if  the  world  came  to  an  end.  The 
only  comfort  Annie  got  in  this  direction  was  a  volley 
of  impudence. 

"  I  hod  discharged  meseF  afore  ye  spoke,"  said  the 
irate  dame.  "  An*  ye  think  I'm  gang  to  broil  an 
ould  hen  for  a  spring  chicken  in  peace  and  quiet 
ness,  ye're  a*  wrong.  An'  then  to  send  that  dour 
nagur  a  speerin'  roun*  among  my  fowl  that  I*  re 
raised  from  babies, — I'll  na  ston  it.  I'll  gang,  I'll 
gang,  but  ye'll  greet  after  the  ould  'ooman  for  a*  o* 
that." 

Annie  then  retreated  to  the  sitting-room,  where 
Miss  Eulie  was  placidly  mending  Susie's  torn  apron, 
and  poured  into  her  ears  the  story  of  her  troubles. 

"  To  be  sure, — to  be  sure,"  Aunt  Eulie  would 
answer,  soothingly ;  "  but  then,  Annie  dear,  it  all 
won't  make  any  difference  a  hundred  years  from 
now." 

This  only  irritated  Annie  more,  and  at  the  same 
time  impressed  her  with  her  own  folly  in  being  so 
disturbed  by  comparative  trifles. 

Gregory  found  his  room  chill  and  comfortless, 
therefore  he  put  on  his  overcoat,  and  started  for  a 
walk,  full  of  surprise  and  painful  musings.  As  he 


286  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

was  descending  the  stairs,  Johnny  came  running  in, 
crying  in  a  tone  of  real  distress,  "  O  Aunt  Annie, 
Aunt  Annie,  I'm  so  sorry,  so  very  sorry — " 

Annie  came  running  out  of  the  sitting-room, 
exclaiming  sharply,  "  What  on  earth  is  the  matter 
now  ?  Hasn't  there  been  trouble  enough  for  one 
day  ?  " 

"  I'm  so  sorry/'  sobbed  the  little  boy,  "  but  I  got 
a  letter  at  the  post-office,  and  I — I — lost  it  coming 
across  the  lots,  and  I — I — can't  find  it." 

This  was  too  much.  This  was  the  ardently- 
looked-for  letter  that  had  glimmered  like  a  star  of 
hope  and  promise  of  better  things  throughout  this 
miserable  day,  and  Annie  lost  all  control  of  herself. 
Rushing  upon  the  child,  she  cried,  "  You  naughty, 
careless  boy !  I'll  give  you  one  lesson ;"  and  she 
shook  him  so  violently  that  Gregory's  indignation 
got  the  better  of  him,  and  he  said,  in  a  low, 
deep  tone,  "  Miss  Walton,  the  child  says  he  is 
'very,  very  sorry.'  He  has  not  meant  to  do 
wrong." 

Annie  started  back  as  if  she  were  committing 
sacrilege,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  Her 
back  was  toward  Gregory,  but  he  could  see  the  hot 
blood  mantling  her  very  neck.  She  stood  there  for 
a  moment,  trembling  like  a  leaf,  and  he,  repenting 
of  his  hasty  words,  was  about  to  apologize,  when 
she  suddenly  caught  the  boy  in  her  arms,  and  sped 
past  him  up  the  stairs  to  her  own  room. 

To  his  dying  day  he  would  never  forget  the 
expression  of  her  face. 


PA  SSfON  AND  PENITENCE:  287 

It  cannot  be  described.  It  was  the  look  of  a 
noble  spirit,  deeply  wounded,  profoundly  penitent. 
Her  intense  feeling  touched  him,  and  the  rough 
October  winds  brushed  a  tear  from  his  own  eyes 
more  than  once  before  he  returned. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

NOT  A  HEROINE,   BUT  A  WOMAN. 

THE  cold,  cynical  man  of  the  world  was  in  a 
maze.  He  was  deeply  and  painfully  surprised  at 
Miss  Walton,  and  scarcely  less  so  at  himself.  How 
could  he  account  for  the  tumult  at  his  heart  ?  When 
he  first  saw  that  outburst  of  passion  against  a  trem 
bling,  pleading  child,  he  felt  that  he  wished  to  leave 
the  house  then  and  forever.  The  next  moment, 
when  he  saw  Annie's  face  as  she  convulsively  clasped 
the  boy  to  her  breast,  and  with  supernatural  strength 
fled  to  the  refuge  of  her  room,  he  was  not  only 
instantly  disarmed  of  anger,  but  touched  and  melted 
as  he  had  never  been  before. 

Feeling  is  sometimes  so  intense  that  it  is  like  the 
lightning,  and  burns  its  way  instantly  to  the  con 
sciousness  of  others.  Words  of  condemnation  would 
have  died  on  the  lips  of  the  sternest  judge  had  he 
seen  Annie's  face.  It  would  have  shown  him  that 
the  harshest  things  that  he  could  utter  were  already 
anticipated  in  unmeasured  self-upbraidings. 

From  anger  and  disgust  Gregory  passed  to  the 
profoundest  pity-.  The  children's  unbounded  affec 
tion  for  Annie  proved  that  she  was  usually  kind  and 
patient  toward  them.  A  little  thought  convinced 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN.  289 

him  that  the  act  he  saw  was  a  sudden  outburst  of 
passion  for  which  the  exasperating  events  of  the  day 
had  been  a  preparation.  Her  face  showed  as  no 
language  could  how  sincere  and  deep  would  be  her 
repentance. 

He  had  not  gone  very  far  into  the  early  twilight 
of  a  grove  before  he  was  conscious  of  a  strong  and 
secret  exultation. 

"  She  is  not  made  of  different  clay  from  others," 
he  said.  "  She  cannot  condemn  me  so  utterly  now  ; 
and,  in  view  of  what  I  h^ve  seen,  she  cannot  loftily 
deny  the  kinship  of  human  weakness. 

"What  a  nature  she  has,  with  its  subterranean 
fires !  She  is  none  of  your  cool,  calculating  crea 
tures,  who  cipher  out  from  day  to  day  what  is  policy 
to  do.  She  will  act  rightly  till  there  is  an  irrepres 
sible  irruption,  and  then,  beware.  And  yet  these 
ebullitions  enrich  her  life  as  the  lava  flow  does  the 
sides  of  Vesuvius.  I  shall  be  greatly  disappointed 
if  she  is  not  ten  times  more  kind,  sympathetic,  and 
self-forgetful  than  she  was  before ;  and  as  for  that 
boy,  she  will  keep  him  in  the  tallest  clover  for  weeks 
to  come,  to  make  up  for  this. 

"  How  piquant  she  is !  I  do  not  fear  her  quick, 
flame-like  spirit  when  it  is  combined  with  so  much 
conscience  and  principle.  Indeed,  I  like  her  passion. 
It  warms  my  cold,  heavy  heart.  I  wish  she  had 
shaken  me,  who  deserved  it,  instead  of  the  child,  and 
if  any  makings  up  like  that  in  yonder  room  could 
follow,  I  would  like  to  be  shaken  every  day  in  the 
week.  It  would  make  a  new  man  of  me." 


29°  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

In  the  excitement  of  his  feelings,  he  had  gone 
farther  than  he  had  intended,  and  the  dusk  was 
deepening  fast  when  he  reached  the  house  on  his 
return.  He  felt  not  a  little  uneasy  as  to  his  recep 
tion  after  the  rebuke  he  had  given,  but  counted 
much  on  Annie's  just  and  generous  disposition.  He 
entered  quietly  at  a  side  door  and  passed  through 
the  dining-room  into  the  hall.  The  lamp  in  the 
parlor  was  unlighted,  but  the  bright  wood  fire  shed 
a  soft,  uncertain  radiance  throughout  the  room.  A 
few  notes  of  prelude  were  struck  on  the  piano,  and 
he  knew  that  Miss  Walton  was  there.  Stepping 
silently  forward  opposite  the  open  door,  he  stood  in 
the  dark  hall  watching  her  as  she  sung  the  following 
words : 

"  My  Father,  once  again  Thy  wayward  child 

In  sorrow,  shame,  and  weakness  comes  to  Thee, 
Confessing  all  my  sin,  my  passion  wild, 
My  selfishness  and  petty  vanity. 

"  O  Jesus,  gentle  Saviour,  at  Thy  feet 

I  fall,  where  often  I  have  knelt  before; 
Thou  wilt  not  spurn,  nor  charge  me  with  deceit, 
Because  old  faults  have  mastered  me  once  more. 

*  Thou  knowest  that  I  would  be  kind  and  true, 

And  that  I  hate  the  sins  that  pierced  Thy  side ; 
Thou  seest  that  I  often  sadly  view 

The  wrong  that  in  my  heart  will  still  abide. 

"  But  Thou  didst  come  such  erring  ones  to  save, 

And  weakness  wins  Thy  strong  and  tender  love ; 
So  not  in  vain  I  now  forgiveness  crave, 

And  cling-  to  hopes  long  stored  with  Thee  above. 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN.  2gj 

"  And  yet  I  plead  that  Thou  would'st  surely  keep 

My  weak  and  human  heart  in  coming  days ; 
Though  now  in  penitence  I  justly  weep, 
O  fill  my  future  life  with  grateful  praise." 

As  in  tremulous,  melting  tones  she  sung  this 
simple  prayer  with  tears  glistening  in  her  eyes, 
Gregory  was  again  conscious  of  the  strong,  answering 
emotion  which  the  presence  of  deep  feeling  in  those 
bound  to  us  by  some  close  tie  of  sympathy  often 
excites.  But  far  more  than  mere  feeling  moved  him 
now.  Her  words  and  manner  vivified  an  old  truth 
familiar  from  infancy,  but  never  realized  or  intelli 
gently  believed,  —  the  power  of  prayer  to  secure 
practical  help  from  God. 

How  often  men  have  lived  and  died  poor  just 
above  mines  of  untold  wealth !  Gaunt  famine  has 
been  the  inmate  of  households  while  there  were 
buried  treasures  under  the  hearth-stone.  So  multi 
tudes  in  their  spiritual  life  are  weak,  despairing, 
perishing,  when  by  the  simple  divinely  appointed 
means  of  prayer  they  might  fill  their  lives  with 
strength  and  fulness.  How  long  men  suffered  and 
died  with  diseases  that  seemed  incurable,  before  they 
discovered  in  some  common  object  a  potent  remedy 
that  relieved  pain  and  restored  health ! 

As  is  the  case  with  many  brought  up  in  Christian 
homes,  with  no  one  thing  was  Gregory  more  familial 
than  prayer.  For  many  years  he  had  said  prayers 
daily,  and  yet  he  had  seldom  in  all  his  life  prayed, 
and  of  late  years  had  come  to  be  a  practical  infidel 
in  regard  to  this  subject.  People  who  only  say 


292  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

prayers,  and  expect  slight,  or  no  results  from  them, 
or  are  content  year  after  year  to  see  no  results, — • 
who  lack  simple,  honest,  practical  faith  in  God's 
word,  such  as  they  have  in  that  of  their  physician  or 
banker, — who  only  feel  that  they  ought  to  pray,  and 
that  in  some  vague,  mystical  manner  it  may  do  them 
good,  are  very  apt  to  end  as  sceptics  in  regard  to  its 
efficacy  and  value.  Or  they  may  become  supersti 
tious,  and  continue  to  say  prayers  as  the  poor  Indian 
mutters  his  incantation  to  keep  off  the  witches. 
God  hears  prayer  when  His  children  cry  to  Him, — 
when  His  faithful  friends  speak  to  Him  straight  and 
true  from  their  hearts ;  and  such  know  well  that 
they  are  answered. 

As  Gregory  looked  at  and  listened  to  Annie  Walton, 
he  could  no  more  believe  that  she  was  expressing  a 
little  aimless  religious  emotion,  just  as  she  would 
sing  a  sentimental  ballad,  than  he  could  think  that 
she  was  only  showing  purposeless  filial  affection  if 
she  were  hanging  on  her  father's  arm  and  pleading 
for  something  vital  to  her  happiness.  The  thought 
flashed  across  him,  "  Here  may  be  the  secret  of  her 
power  to  do  right, — the  help  she  gets  from  a  source 
above  and  beyond  herself.  Here  may  be  the  key  to 
both  her  strength  and  weakness.  Here  glimmers 
light  even  for  me." 

Annie  was  about  to  sing  again,  but  the  interest 
which  she  had  awakened  was  so  strong  that  he  could 
not  endure  delay.  Anxiety  as  to  his  personal  recep 
tion  was  forgotten,  and  he  stepped  forward  and  inter, 
rupted  her  with  a  question. 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN.  293 

*'  Miss  Walton,  do  you  honestly  believe  that  ?  " 

"  Believe  what  ?  "  said  she,  hastily,  quite  startled. 

"What  I  gathered  from  the  hymn  you  sung, — that 
your  prayer  is  really  heard  and  answered  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly  I  believe  it,"  said  Annie,  in  a 
shocked  and  pained  tone.  "  Do  you  think  me  capa 
ble  of  mockery  in  such  things?  And  yet,"  she 
added,  sadly,  "  perhaps  after  to-day  you  think  me 
capable  of  anything." 

"  Now  you  do  both  yourself  and  me  wrong," 
Gregory  eagerly  replied.  "  I  do  believe  you  are 
sincerely  trying  to  obey  your  conscience.  Did  I 
not  see  your  look  of  sorrow  as  you  passed  me  on 
the  stairs  ? — when  shall  I  forget  it !  Remember 
words  that  must  have  been  inspired,  which  you  once 
quoted  to  me, — 

'  Who  by  repentance  is  not  satisfied 
Is  not  of  heaven  nor  earth,' 

and  pardon  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  been 
listening  the  last  few  moments  out  in  the  hall. 
Your  tones  and  manner  would  melt  the  heart  of  an 
infidel,  and  they  have  made  me  wish  that  I  were  not 
so  unbelieving.  Forgive  me  for  even  putting  such 
thoughts  in  your  mind, — I  feel  it  is  wicked  and 
selfish  in  me  to  do  it, — but  how  do  you  know  that 
your  prayer,  though  so  direct  and  sincere,  was  not 
sound  lost  in  space?" 

"  Because  it  has  been  answered,"  she  replied, 
eagerly.  "  Peace  came  even  as  I  spoke  the  words. 
Because  whenever  I  really  pray  to  God  He  answers 
me." 


294  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

They  now  stood  on  opposite  sides  of  the  hearth, 
with  the  glowing  fire  between  them.  In  its  light 
Annie's  wet  eyes  glistened,  but  she  had  forgotten 
herself  in  her  sincere  and  newly  awakened  interest 
in  him  whom  she  had  secretly  hoped  and  purposed 
before  to  lead  to  better  things.  It  had  formed  no 
small  part  of  her  keen  self-reproach  that  she  had 
forgotten  that  purpose,  and  wished  him  out  of  the 
way,  just  as  she  was  beginning  to  gain  a  decided 
influence  over  him  for  good.  After  what  he  had 
witnessed  that  afternoon  she  felt  that  he  would 
never  listen  to  her  again. 

He  would  not  had  he  detected  the  slightest  tinge  of 
acting  or  insincerity  on  her  part,  but  her  penitence 
had  been  as  real  as  her  passion. 

She  was  glad  and  grateful  indeed  when  he  ap 
proached  her  again  in  the  spirit  he  now  manifested. 

As  she  stood  there  in  the  firelight,  self-forgetful, 
conscious  only  of  her  wish  to  say  some  words  that 
would  be  like  light  to  him,  her  large,  humid  eyes 
turned  up  to  his  face,  she  made  a  picture  that  his 
mother  would  like  to  see. 

He  leaned  against  the  mantel  and  looked  deject 
edly  into  the  fire.  After  a  moment  he  said,  sadly, 
"  I  envy  you,  Miss  Walton.  I  wish  I  could  believe 
in  a  personal  God  who  thought  about  us  and  cared 
for  us, — that  is,  each  one  of  us.  Of  course  I  believe 
in  a  Supreme  Being, — a  great  First  Cause ;  but  He 
hides  Himself  behind  the  stars ;  He  is  lost  to  me  in 
His  vast  universe.  I  think  my  prayers  once  had  an 
effect  on  my  own  mind,  and  so  did  me  some  good. 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A   WOMAN.  295 

But  that's  past,  and  now  I  might  as  well  pray  to 
gravitation  as  to  anything  else." 

Then,  turning  to  her,  he  caught  her  wistful,  inter 
ested  look, — an  expression  which  said  plainly,  "  I 
want  to  help  you,"  and  it  touched  him.  He  con 
tinued,  feelingly,  "  Perhaps  you  are  not  conscious  of 
it,  but  you  now  look  as  if  you  cared  whether  I  was 
good  or  bad,  was  sad  or  happy,  lived  or  died.  If 
I  could  only  see  that  God  cared  in  something  the 
same  way !  He  no  doubt  intends  to  do  what  is  best 
for  the  race  in  the  long  run,  but  that  may  involve 
my  destruction.  I  dread  His  terrible,  inexorable 
laws." 

"  Alas ! "  said  Annie,  tears  welling  up  into  her 
eyes,  "  I  am  not  wise  enough  to  argue  out  these 
matters  and  demonstrate  the  truth.  I  suppose  it 
can  be  done  by  those  who  know  how." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  he,  shaking  his  head  decisively. 

"  Well,  I  can  tell  you  only  what  I  feel  and  know." 

"That  is  better  than  argument, — that  is  what  I 
would  like.  You  are  not  a  weak,  sentimental  woman, 
full  of  mysticism  and  fancies,  and  I  should  have  much 
confidence  in  what  you  know  and  feel." 

"  Do  not  say  that  I  am  not  a  weak  woman ;  I  have 
shown  you  otherwise.  Be  sincere  with  me,  for  I  am 
with  you.  Well,  it  seems  to  me  that  this  question  of 
prayer  is  simply  one  of  fact.  We  know  that  God 
answers  prayer,  not  only  because  He  said  He  would, 
but  because  He  does.  From  my  own  experience  I 
am  as  certain  of  it  as  of  my  existence.  I  think  that 
many  who  sneer  or  doubt  in  regard  to  prayer  are 


296  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

very  unfair.  I  ask  you,  is  it  scientific  for  men  to 
say,  *  Nothing  is  true  save  what  we  have  seen  and 
know  ourselves '  ?  How  that  would  limit  one's  knowl 
edge  If  some  facts  are  discovered  in  Europe  and 
established  by  a  few  proper  witnesses,  we  believe 
them  here.  Now  in  every  age  multitudes  have  said 
that  it  was  a  fact  that  God  heard  and  answered  their 
prayers.  What  right  has  any  one  to  ignore  these 
truths  any  more  than  any  other  truths  of  human 
experience  ?  I  ask  my  earthly  father  for  something. 
The  next  day  I  find  it  on  my  dressing-table.  Is  it  a 
delusion  to  believe  that  he  heard  and  granted  my 
request?  When  I  ask  my  Heavenly  Father  for  out 
ward  things,  He  sometimes  gives  them,  and  some 
times  He  does  not,  as  He  sees  is  best  for  me,  just  as 
my  parents  did  when  I  was  a  little  child.  And  I 
have  already  seen  that  He  has  often  been  kinder 
in  refusing.  But  when  I  ask  for  that  which  will 
meet  my  deeper  and  spiritual  needs  I  seldom  ask  in 
vain.  If  you  should  ask  me  how  I  know  it,  I  in 
return  ask  how  you  know  that  you  are  ill,  or  well, 
that  you  are  glad  or  sad,  or  tired,  or  anything  about 
yourself  that  depends  on  your  own  inner  conscious 
ness?  If  I  should  say  unjust,  insulting  things  to 
you  now,  how  would  you  know  you  were  angry  ?  If 
I  should  say,  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  mocking  me  ; 
what  I  am  now  saying  has  no  interest  for  you  ;  you 
don't  hear  me,  you  don't  understand  me,  you  are 
thinking  of  something  else,  what  kind  of  proof  to 
the  contrary  could  you  offer?  Suppose  that  I  should 
say  I  want  mathematical  proof  that  you  do  feel  an 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN.  297 

interest,  or  physical  proof, — something  that  I  can 
measure,  weigh,  or  see, — should  I  be  reasonable? 
Do  I  make  it  clear  to  you  why  I  say  I  know  this?" 

"  Clearer  than  it  was  ever  made  to  me  before.  I 
cannot  help  seeing  that  you  are  sincere  and  sure 
about  it.  But  pardon  me — I've  got  in  such  an 
inveterate  habit  of  doubting — are  not  good  Catholics 
just  as  sure  about  the  Virgin  and  the  saints  hearing 
and  answering  them?  and  do  not  pagans  feel  the 
same  way  about  their  deities?" 

"  Now,  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  Annie,  with  a  little 
indignant  reproach  in  her  tone,  "do  you  think  it 
just  and  reasonable  to  compare  my  faith,  or  that  of 
any  intelligent  Christian,  with  the  gross  superstitions 
you  name  ?  Christianity  is  not  embraced  only  by 
the  ignorant  and  weak-minded :  multitudes  of  the 
best  and  ripest  scholars  in  the  world  are  honest 
believers." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  I  did  not  mean  you  to 
draw  any  such  inference  as  that,"  replied  he,  hastily 
and  in  some  confusion. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  any  other  can  be  drawn,"  she 
continued  ;  "  and  I  know  from  what  I  have  read  and 
heard  that  unbelievers  usually  seek  to  give  that 
impression.  But  it's  not  a  fair  one.  The  absurdities 
of  paganism,  monkish  legends,  and  even  the  plausi 
ble  errors  of  the  Romish  Church,  will  not  endure  the 
light  of  intelligent  education  ;  but  the  more  I  know 
the  more  I  see  the  beauty  and  perfection  of  the 
Christian  religion  and  the  reasonableness  of  prayer, 
and  so  it  is  with  far  stronger  and  wiser  heads  than 


298  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURX. 

mine.  Your  father  and  mine  were  never  men  to  be 
imposed  upon,  nor  to  believe  anything  just  because 
they  were  told  to  do  so  when  children." 

"  Really,  Miss  Walton,  you  said  you  couldn't 
argue  about  this  matter.  I  think  you  can,  like  a 
lawyer." 

"  If  you  mean  that  I  am  using  a  lawyer's  proverb 
ial  sleight  of  hand,  I'm  sorry." 

"  I  don't  mean  that  at  all,  but  that  you  put  your 
facts  in  such  a  way  that  it's  hard  to  meet  them." 

"  I  only  try  to  use  common-sense.  It's  about  the 
only  sense  I  have.  But  I  was  in  hopes  you  did  not 
want  to  meet  what  I  say  adversely,  but  would  like 
to  believe." 

"  I  would,  Miss  Walton,  honestly  I  would ;  but 
wishes  go  little  way  against  stubborn  doubt.  This 
one  now  rises :  How  is  it  that  scientific  men  are  so 
apt  to  become  infidel  in  regard  to  the  Bible  and  its 
teachings,  and  especially  prayer?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  hardly  know,"  she  answered,  with  a 
sigh ;  "  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  think.  I  don't 
believe  the  majority  of  them  know  much  about 
either  the  Bible  or  prayer.  With  my  little  smatter 
ing  of  geology  I  should  think  it  very  presuming  to 
give  an  opinion  contrary  to  that  held  by  the  best 
authorities  in  that  science ;  and  I  think  it  very  pre 
suming  in  those  who  rarely  look  into  a  Bible  and 
never  pray,  to  tell  those  who  read  and  pray  daily 
that  they  don't  know  what  they  do  know.  Then 
again,  scientific  people  often  apply  gross  material 
tests  to  matters  of  faith  and  religious  experience. 


NOT  A  HER OINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN.  299 

The  thing  is  absurd.  Suppose  a  man  should  seek 
to  investigate  light  with  a  pair  of  scales  that  could 
not  weigh  anything  less  than  a  pound.  There  is  a 
spiritual  and  moral  world  as  truly  as  a  physical,  and 
spiritual  facts  are  just  as  good  to  build  on  as  any 
other ;  and  I  should  think  they  ought  to  be  better, 
because  the  spirit  is  the  noblest  part  of  us.  A  man 
who  sees  only  one  side  of  a  mountain  has  no  right 
to  declare  that  the  other  is  just  like  it.  Then 
again  your  scientific  oracles  are  always  contradicting 
one  another,  and  upsetting  one  another's  theories. 
Science  to-day  laughs  at  the  absurdities  believed  by 
the  learned  a  hundred  years  ago ;  and  so  will  much 
that  is  now  called  science,  and  because  of  which  men 
doubt  the  Bible,  be  laughed  at  in  the  future.  But 
my  belief  is  the  same  substantially  as  that  of  Paul, 
St.  Augustine,  Luther,  and  the  best  people  of  my 
own  age;  and  Luther,  who  did  more  for  the  world 
than  any  other  mere  man,  said  that  to  '  pray  well 
was  to  work  well.'  " 

When  Annie  was  under  mental  excitement,  she 
was  a  rapid,  fluent  talker,  and  this  was  especially  her 
condition  this  evening.  As  she  looked  earnestly  at 
Gregory  while  she  spoke,  her  dark  eyes  glowing 
with  feeling  and  intelligence  and  lighting  her  whole 
face,  he  was  impressed  more  than  he  could  have  been 
by  the  labored  arguments  of  a  cool,  logical  scholar. 
Her  intense  earnestness  put  a  soul  into  the  body  of 
her  words.  He  was  affected  more  than  he  wished 
her  to  know,  more  than  was  agreeable  to  his  pride. 
What  she  had  said  seemed  so  perfectly  true  and 


300  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

real  to  her  that  for  the  time  she  made  it  true  to 
him ;  and  yet  to  admit  that  his  long-standing  doubts 
could  not  endure  so  slight  an  assault  as  this,  was  to 
show  that  they  had  a  very  flimsy  basis.  Moreover, 
he  knew  that  when,  left  to  himself,  he  should  think 
it  all  over,  new  questions  would  rise  that  could  not 
be  answered,  and  new  doubts  return.  Therefore  he 
could  not  receive  now  what  he  might  be  disposed  to 
doubt  to-morrow.  He  was  a  trifle  bewildered,  and 
wanted  time  to  think.  He  was  as  much  interested 
in  Miss  Walton  as  in  what  she  was  saying,  and  when 
her  words  proved  that  she  was  a  thoughtful  woman, 
and  could  be  the  intelligent  companion  of  any  man, 
the  distracting  fear  grew  stronger  that  when  she 
came  to  know  him  well,  she  would  coldly  stand 
aloof.  The  very  thought  was  unendurable.  In  all 
the  world,  only  in  the  direction  of  Annie  Walton 
seemed  there  any  light  for  him.  So  to  gain  time  he 
instinctively  sought  to  give  a  less  serious  turn  to  the 
conversation,  by  saying,  "  Come,  Miss  Walton,  this 
is  the  best  preaching  I've  ever  heard.  It  seems  to 
me  quite  unusual  to  find  a  young  lady  so  interested 
and  well  versed  in  these  matters.  You  must  have 
given  a  good  deal  of  thought  and  reading  to  the 
subject." 

Annie  looked  disappointed.  She  had  hoped  for  a 
better  result  from  her  earnest  words  than  a  compli 
ment  and  a  little  curiosity  as  to  herself.  But  she 
met  him  in  his  own  apparent  mood,  and  said,  "Now 
see  how  easily  imposed  upon  your  sceptical  people 
are!  I  could  palm  myself  off,  like  Portia,  as  a 


tfQT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN.  301 

Daniel  come  to  judgment,  and  by  a  little  discreet 
silence  gain  a  blue  halo  as  a  woman  of  deep  research 
and  profound  reading.  Just  the  contrary  is  true.  I 
am  not  a  very  great  reader  on  any  subject,  and  cer 
tainly  not  on  theology  and  kindred  topics.  The  fact 
is  I  am  largely  indebted  to  my  father.  He  is 
interested  in  these  subjects  and  takes  pains  to  explain 
much  to  me  that  would  require  study;  and  since 
mother  died  he  has  come  to  talk  to  me  very  much 
as  he  did  to  her.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  all  I  have 
said  is  very  simple  and  plain,  and  you  surely  know 
that  my  motive  was  not  to  air  the  little  instruction 
I  have  received." 

Gregory's  policy  forsook  him  as  he  saw  her  ex 
pression  of  disappointment ;  and  as  he  looked  at  her 
flushed  and  to  him  now  lovely  face,  acting  upon  a 
sudden  impulse  he  asked,  "  Won't  you  please  tell 
me  your  motive  ?  " 

His  manner  and  tone  convinced  her  in  a  moment 
that  he  was  more  moved  and  interested  than  she  had 
thought,  and  answering  with  a  like  impulse  on  her 
part,  she  said,  frankly,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  pardon  me  for 
saying  it,  but  from  the  very  first  day  of  your  visit  it 
seemed  clear  to  me  that  you  were  not  living  and 
feeling  as  those  who  once  made  this  your  home 
could  wish,  and  the  thought  was  impressed  upon 
me,  impressed  strongly,  that  perhaps  God  had  sent 
you  in  your  feeble  health  and  sadness  (for  you 
evidently  were  depressed  in  mind  also),  to  this  place 
of  old  and  holy  memories,  that  you  might  learn 
something  better  than  this  world's  philosophy,  I 


302  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

have  hoped  and  prayed  that  I  might  be  able  to  help 
you.  But  when  to-day,"  she  continued,  turning 
away  her  head  to  hide  the  rising  tears,  ".I  showed 
such  miserable  weakness,  I  felt  that  you  would  never 
listen  to  me  again  on  such  subjects,  and  would  doubt 
more  than  ever  their  reality,  and  it  made  me  very 
unhappy.  I  feel  grateful  that  you  have  listened  to 
me  so  patiently.  I  hope  you  won't  let  my  weak 
ness  hurt  my  cause.  Now  you  see  what  a  frank, 
guileless  conspirator  I  am,"  she  added,  trying  to 
smile  at  him  through  her  tears. 

While  she  spoke  Gregory  bent  upon  her  a  look 
that  tried  to  search  her  soul.  But  the  suspicious 
man  of  the  world  could  not  doubt  her  perfect  sin 
cerity.  Her  looks  and  words  disclosed  her  thought 
as  a  crystal  stream  reveals  a  white  pebble  over  which 
it  flows.  He  stepped  forward  and  took  her  hand 
with  a  pressure  that  caused  it  pain  for  hours  after, 
but  he  trusted  himself  to  say  only,  "  You  are  my 
good  angel,  Miss  Walton.  Now  I  understand  your 
influence  over  me,"  and  then  abruptly  left  the 
room. 

But  he  did  not  understand  her  influence.  A  man 
seldom  does  when  he  first  meets  the  woman  whose 
words,  glances,  and  presence  have  the  subtle  power 
to  fill  his  thoughts,  quicken  his  pulse,  stir  his  soul, 
and  awaken  his  whole  nature  into  new  life.  He 
usually  passes  through  a  luminous  haze  of  congeni 
ality,  friendship,  Platonic  affinity,  or  even  brotherly 
regard,  till  something  suddenly  clears  up  the  mist 
and  he  finds,  like  the  first  man,  lonely  in  Eden, 


NOT  A  HEROINE.  BUT  A    WOMAN.  303 

that  there   is  but   one   woman  for  him  in  all  tha 
world. 

Gregory  was  in  the  midst  of  the  cloud,  but  it 
seemed  very  bright  around  him  as  he  paced  his  room 
excitedly. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
GREGORY'S  FINAL  CONCLUSION  IN  REGARD  TO  MISS 

WALTON. 

ANNIE  WALTON  was  now  no  longer  an  enigma 
to  Gregory.  He  had  changed  his  views  several 
times  in  regard  to  her.  First,  she  was  a  common 
place,  useful  member  of  the  community,  in  a  small 
way,  and  part  of  the  furniture  of  a  well-ordered 
country  house, — plain  furniture  too,  he  had  said  to 
himself.  But  one  evening  in  her  company  had  con 
vinced  him  that  such  a  Miss  Walton  was  a  fiction 
of  his  own  mind,  and  he  who  had  come  to  regard 
average  society  girls  as  a  weariness  beyond  endur 
ance  was  interested  in  her  immediately. 

Then  her  truth  and  unselfishness,  and  the  strong 
religious  element  in  her  character,  had  been  a  con 
stant  rebuke  to  him,  but  he  had  soothed  himself 
with  the  theory  that  she  differed  from  others  only 
in  being  untempted.  He  then  had  resolved  to 
amuse  himself,  ease  his  conscience,  and  feed  his  old 
grudge  against  her  sex,  by  teaching  the  little  saint 
that  she  was  only  a  weak,  vain  creature.  Yet  she 
had  sustained  not  only  his  temptations,  but  another 
ordeal  so  searching  and  terrible  that  it  transformed 
her  into  a  heroine,  a  being  of  superior  clay  to  that 
of  ordinary  mortals.  "  It's  her  nature  to  be  good. 


GRECO  R  Y '  S  FIN  A  L  CONCL  USION.  305 

mine  to  be  bad,"  he  had  said ;  "  I'm  a  weed,  she  is  a 
f.ower."  But  Annie  herself  had  rudely  dispelled 
this  illusion. 

Now  he  saw  her  to  be  a  woman  who  might,  did 
she  yield  to  the  evil  within  her  and  without,  show 
all  the  vanity,  weakness,  and  folly  generally,  of 
which  he  had  at  first  believed  her  capable,  but  who, 
by  prayer  and  effort,  daily  achieved  victories  over 
herself.  In  addition,  she  had  manifested  the  most 
beautiful  and  God-like  trait  that  can  ennoble  human 
character, — the  desire  to  save  and  sweeten  others' 
lives.  To  have  been  lectured  and  talked  to  on  the 
subject  of  religion  in  any  conventional  way  by  one 
outside  of  his  sympathies  would  have  been  as  repul 
sive  as  useless,  but  Annie  had  the  tact  to  make  her 
effort  appear  like  angelic  ministry. 

There  is  that  about  every  truly  refined  woman 
with  a  large  loving  heart  which  is  irresistible.  The 
two  qualities  combined  give  a  winning  grace  that  is 
an  "  open  sesame "  everywhere.  The  trouble  is 
that  culture  and  polish  are  too  often  the  sheen  of 
an  icicle. 

He  believed  he  saw  just  her  attitude  toward  him. 
It  reminded  him  of  Miss  Bently's  efforts  in  his 
behalf,  but  with  the  contrast  that  existed  between 
Miss  Bently  and  Annie.  He  now  wondered  that  he 
could  have  been  interested  in  such  a  vain,  shallow 
creature  as  Mrs.  Grobb  had  proved  herself,  and  he 
excused  himself  on  the  ground  that  he  had  ideal 
ized  her  into  something  that  she  was  not.  All  that 
Annie  said  and  did  had  the  solidity  of  truth,  and 


306  OPENING  A  CUES  TN U 7 '  B  URR. 

not  the  hollowness  of  affectation.  And  yet  there 
was  one  thing  that  troubled  him.  While  her  effort 
to  help  him  out  of  his  morbid,  unhappy  state  was 
so  sincere,  she  showed  no  special  personal  interest 
in  himself,  such  as  he  had  in  her.  If  he  should  now 
go  away,  she  would  place  him  merely  in  the  outer 
circle  of  her  friends  or  acquaintance,  and  make  good 
the  old  saying,  "  Out  of  sight,  out  of  mind."  But 
already  the  conviction  was  growing  strong  that  it 
would  be  long  before  she  would  be  out  of  his  mind. 
Though  he  had  plenty  of  pride,  as  we  have  seen, 
he  was  not  conceited,  and  from  long  familiarity  with 
society  could  readily  detect  the  difference  between 
the  regard  she  would  feel  for  a  man  personally 
attractive  and  the  interest  of  aroused  sympathies 
which  she  might  have  in  any  one,  and  which  her 
faith  and  nature  led  her  to  have  in  every  one.  Of 
course  he  was  not  satisfied  with  the  latter,  and  it 
was  becoming  one  of  his  dearest  hopes  to  awaken  a 
personal  feeling,  though  of  just  what  kind  he  had 
not  yet  even  defined  to  himself.  . 

When  the  tea-bell  rang,  much  later  than  usual  on 
account  of  the  chaos  of  the  day,  he  was  glad  to  go 
down.  Her  society  was  far  pleasanter  than  his  own, 
and  future  events  might  make  everything  clearer. 

His  supposition  in  regard  to  Johnny  was  correct. 
As  he  descended  the  stairs,  the  boy  came  out  of  the 
sitting-room,  holding  Annie  tightly  by  the  hand  and 
beaming  upon  her  like  the  sun  after  a  shower,  and 
when  he  found  by  his  plate  a  huge  apple  that  had 
been  roasted  specially  for  him,  his  cup  of  happiness 


GREGOR  Y'  S  FIN  A  L  CONCL  USION.  307 

was  full  and  he  was  ready  for  another  shaking.  If 
the  apple  once  caused  discord  it  here  confirmed 
peace. 

The  supper  was  as  inviting  as  the  dinner  had  been 
forbidding,  indicating  a  change  of  policy  in  the 
kitchen  cabinet.  In  fact,  after  Zibbie  cooled  off,  she 
found  that  she  was  not  ready  for  "  the  world  to 
come  to  an  end"  (or  its  equivalent,  her  leaving  the 
Waltons  after  so  many  years  of  service  and  kind 
ness).  She  had  not  yet  reached  the  point  of  abject 
apology,  though  she  knew  she  would  go  down  on 
her  old  rheumatic  knees,  rather  than  leave  her  ark 
of  refuge  and  go  out  into  the  turbulent  waters  of 
the  world  ;  still  she  made  propitiating  overtures  in 
the  brownest  of  buttered  toast,  and  a  chicken  salad 
that  might  have  been  served  as  ambrosia  on  Mount 
Olympus.  Zibbie  was  a  guileless  strategist,  for  in 
the  success  of  the  supper  she  proved  how  great  had 
been  her  malign  ingenuity  and  deliberation  in  spoil 
ing  the  dinner.  She  could  never  claim  that  it  was 
accidental.  Hannah  no  longer  waited  as  if  it  were  a 
funeral  occasion,  and  the  domestic  skies  were  fast 
brightening  up,  except  in  one  quarter :  Mr.  Walton's 
chair  was  vacant,  and  Gregory  noticed  that  Annie 
often  looked  wistfully  and  sadly  toward  it. 

With  the  sensitiveness  of  one  who  habitually  hid 
his  deeper  feeling  from  the  world,  Gregory  tried  to 
act  as  if  his  last  conversation  with  Annie  had  been 
upon  the  weather;  and  as  might  be  expected  of 
refined  people,  no  allusion  was  made  to  the  unpleas 
ant  features  of  the  day.  Neither  then  nor  after- 


308  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

ward  was  a  word  adverse  to  the  Camdens  spoken. 
They  had  been  guests,  and  that  was  enough  for  the 
Waltons'  nice  sense  of  courtesy.  Only  Susie,  with 
a  little  sigh  of  relief,  gave  expression  to  the  general 
feeling  by  saying,  "  Somehow  I  feel  kind  of  light 
to-night.  I  felt  dreadfully  heavy  this  morning." 

Annie,  with  a  smile  on  her  lips  and  something 
like  a  tear  in  her  eye,  noticed  the  child's  remark  by 
adding,  "  I  think  we  should  all  feel  light  if  grandpa 
were  only  here." 

After  supper  she  sung  to  the  children  and  told 
them  a  bedtime  story,  and  then  with  a  kiss  of  peace 
sent  them  off  to  their  dream-wanderings. 

During  Annie's  absence  from  the  parlor,  Gregory 
remained  in  his  room.  He  was  in  no  mood  to  talk 
with  any  one  else.  Even  Miss  Eulie's  gentle  patter 
of  words  would  fall  with  a  sting  of  pain. 

When  Annie  came  down  to  the  parlor  she  said, 
"Now,  Mr.  Gregory,  I  will  sing  as  much  as  you 
wish,  to  make  up  for  last  evening.  Indeed  I  must 
do  something  to  get  through  the  hours  till  father's 
return,  for  I  feel  so  anxious  and  self-reproachful 
about  him." 

"And  so  make  happiness  for  others  out  of  your 
pain,"  said  he.  "  Why  don't  you  complain  and  fret 
all  the  evening  and  make  it  uncomfortable  gener 
ally?" 

"  I  have  done  enough  of  that  for  one  day.  What 
will  you  have  ?  " 

An  impulse  prompted  him  to  say  "  You/'  but  he 
only  said,  "  Your  own  choice,"  and  walked  softly  up 


GREGOR  Y'S  FINAL  CONCL  USIOtf.  309 

and  down  the  room  while  she  sung,  now  a  ballad, 
now  a  hymn,  and  again  a  simple  air  from  an  opera, 
but  nothing  light  or  gay. 

He  was  taking  a  dangerous  course  for  his  own 
peace.  As  we  have  seen,  Annie's  voice  was  not  one 
to  win  special  admiration.  It  was  not  brilliant  and 
highly  cultivated,  and  had  no  very  great  compass. 
She  could  not  produce  any  of  the  remarkable  effects 
of  the  trained  vocalist.  But  it  was  exceedingly 
sweet  in  the  low,  minor  notes.  It  was  sympathetic, 
and  so  colored  by  the  sentiment  of  the  words  that 
she  made  a  beautiful  language  of  song.  It  was  a 
voice  that  stole  into  the  heart,  and  kept  vibrating 
there  long  hours  after,  like  an  ^Eolian  harp  just 
breathed  upon  by  a  dying  zephyr. 

As  was  often  the  case,  she  forgot  her  auditor,  and 
began  to  reveal  herself  in  this  mode  of  expression 
so  natural  to  her,  and  to  sing  as  she  did  long  even 
ings  when  alone.  At  times  her  tones  would  be 
tremulous  with  pathos  and  feeling,  and  again  strong 
and  hopeful.  Then,  as  if  remembering  the  great 
joy  that  soon  would  be  hers  in  welcoming  back  her 
absent  lover,  it  grew  as  tender  and  alluring  as  a 
thrush's  call  to  its  mate. 

"  O'er  the  land  and  o'er  the  sea 
Swiftly  fly  my  thoughts  to  thee  ; 
Haste  thee  and  come  back  to  me : 

I'm  waiting. 

"  Thou  away,  how  sad  my  song ! 
When  alone,  the  days  are  long ; 
Soon  thou'lt  know  how  glad  and  strong 
My  welcome. 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Haste  thee,  then,  o'er  sea  and  land ; 
Quickly  join  our  loving  band, 
Waiting  here  to  clasp  thy  hand 

In  greeting." 

•'  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,"  said  Gregory,  leaning 
upon  the  piano,  "that  would  bring  me  from  the 
antipodes." 

She  did  not  like  his  tone  and  manner,  and  also 
became  conscious  that  in  her  choice  of  a  ballad  she 
had  expressed  thoughts  that  were  not  for  him ;  so 
she  tried  to  turn  the  matter  lightly  off  by  saying, 
"  Where  you  probably  were  in  your  thoughts. 
What  have  you  been  thinking  about  all  this  long 
time  while  I  have  fallen  into  the  old  habit  of  talk 
ing  to  myself  over  the  piano  ?  " 

"You,  I  might  say;  but  I  should  add,  in  truth, 
what  you  have  said  to  me  this  evening." 

"I  hope  only  the  latter." 

"Chiefly,  I've  been  enjoying  your  singing.  You 
have  a  very  peculiar  voice.  You  don't  '  execute  '  or 
'  render '  anything,  any  more  than  a  bird  does.  I 
believe  they  have  been  your  music  teachers." 

"  Crows  abound  in  our  woods,"  she  answered, 
laughing. 

"  So  do  robins  and  thrushes." 

Her  face  suddenly  had  an  absent  look  as  if  she 
did  not  hear  him.  It  was  turned  from  the  light,  or 
the  rich  color  that  was  mantling  it  would  have 
puzzled  him,  and  might  have  inspired  hope.  With 
some  abruptness  and  yet  hesitation,  such  as  is  often 
noted  when  a  delicate  subject  is  broached,  she  said 


GREGORY'S  FINAL  CONCLUSION.  31 1 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  I  wish  I  could  make  peace  between 
you  and  Mr.  Hunting.  I  think  you  are  not 
friendly." 

As  she  looked  to  see  the  effect  of  her  remark  the 
light  shone  on  his  face,  and  she  was  again  deeply 
pained  to  see  how  instantly  it  darkened.  For  a 
moment  he  did  not  reply;  then  in  a  cold,  con 
strained  voice,  he  said,  "  He  is  a  friend  of  the 
family,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  eagerly. 

"  I  too  would  like  to  be  regarded  as  a  1  -iend,  and 
especially  to  you  ;  so  I  ask  it  as  a  greac  personal 
favor  that  you  will  not  mention  that  gentleman's 
name  again  during  the  brief  remnant  of  my  visit." 

"  Do  you  mean  any  imputation  against  him?"  she 
asked,  hotly. 

Policy  whispered,  "  Don't  offend  her.  Hunting 
may  be  a  near  relation ; "  so  he  said,  quietly, 
"  Gentlemen  may  have  difficulties  concerning  which 
they  do  not  like  to  speak.  I  have  made  no  imputa 
tion  against  him  whatever,  but  I  entreat  you  to 
grant  my  request." 

Annie  was  not  satisfied,  but  sat  still  with  knit 
brows.  At  that  moment  she  heard  her  father's 
step  and  ran  joyfully  to  meet  him.  He  had  come 
home  chilled  from  a  long  ride  in  the  raw  wind,  and 
she  spent  the  rest  of  the  evening  in  remorseful  minis 
trations  to  his  comfort.  As  she  flitted  around  him, 
served  his  tea  and  toast,  and  petted  him  generally, 
Gregory  felt  that  he  would  ride  for  a  night  after  the 
"Wild  Huntsman  "  to  be  so  treated. 


3 1 2  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  B  URR. 

He  also  rightly  felt  that  Annie's  manner  was  a 
little  cool  toward  him.  It  was  not  in  her  frank> 
passionate  nature  to  feel  and  act  the  same  toward 
one  who  had  just  expressed  such  bitter  hostility 
toward  her  lover.  But  the  more  he  thought  of  it 
the  more  determined  he  was  that  there  should  be  no 
alienation  between  them  on  account  of  Hunting. 

"Curse  him  ! "  he  muttered,  "he  has  cost  me  too 
much  already." 

He  had  the  impression  that  Hunting  was  a  rela 
tive  of  the  family.  That  he  was  the  accepted  lover 
of  the  pure  and  true  girl  that  he  himself  was  uncon 
sciously  learning  to  love  was  too  monstrous  a 
thought  to  be  entertained.  Still  Annie's  words  and 
manner  caused  him  some  sharp  pangs  of  jealousy, 
till  he  cast  the  very  idea  away  in  scorn  as  unworthy 
of  both  himself  and  her. 

"  Evil  as  rny  life  has  been,  it  is  white  compared 
with  his,"  he  said  to  himself. 

In  accordance  with  his  purpose  to  keep  the  vant 
age  ground  already  gained,  he  was  geniality  itself, 
and  so  entertained  Miss  Eulie  and  Mr.  Walton  that 
Annie  soon  relented  and  smiled  upon  him  as  kindly 
as  ever.  She  was  in  too  humbled  and  softened  a 
mood  that  evening  to  be  resentful,  except  under 
great  provocation,  and  she  was  really  very  grateful 
to  Gregory  for  his  readiness  to  overlook  her  weak 
ness  and  give  her  credit  for  trying  to  do  right. 
Indeed,  his  sincere  admiration  and  outspoken  desire 
for  her  esteem  inclined  her  toward  him,  for  was  she 
not  a  woman  ? 


GREGOR  Y'S  FINAL  CONCL USIOtf.  3 1 3 

"  After  all,"  she  thought,  "he  has  said  nothing 
against  Charles.  They  have  had  a  quarrel,  and  he 
no  doubt  is  the  one  to  blame.  He  is  naturally  very 
proud  and  resentful,  and  would  be  all  the  more  so  in 
that  degree  that  he  was  wrong  himself.  If  I  can 
help  him  become  a  Christian,  making  peace  will  be 
an  easy  affair  ;  so  I  will  not  lose  the  hold  that  I  have 
gained  upon  him.  When  Charles  comes  he  will  tell 
me  all  about  it,  and  I  will  make  him  treat  Gregory 
in  such  a  way  that  enmity  cannot  last." 

How  omnipotent  girls  imagine  themselves  to  be 
with  those  who  swear  they  will  do  anything  under 
heaven  to  please  them,  but  who  usually  go  on  in 
the  old  ways ! 

It  was  late  when  the  family  separated  for  the 
night,  but  later  far  when  Gregory  retired.  The  con 
clusion  of  his  long  reverie  was  that  in  Annie  Walton 
existed  his  only  chance  of  life  and  happiness.  She 
seemed  to  possess  the  power  to  wake  up  all  the  man 
left  in  him,  and  if  there  were  any  help  in  God,  she 
only  could  show  him  how  to  find  it. 

Thus  his  worldly  wisdom  had  taught  him,  as  many 
others  had  been  taught,  to  lean  on  a  human  arm  for 
his  main  support  and  chief  hope,  while  possibly  in 
the  uncertain  future  some  help  from  heaven  might 
be  obtained.  He  was  like  a  sickly  plant  in  the 
shade  saying  to  itself,  "Yonder  ray  of  sunlight 
would  give  me  new  life,"  while  it  has  no  thought  of 
the  sun  from  which  the  ray  came.  He  truly  wished 
to  become  a  good  man  for  his  own  sake  as  well  as 
Annie's,  for  he  had  sufficient  experience  in  the  ills 


314  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

of  evil ;  but  he  did  not  know  that  a  loving  God 
does  not  make  our  only  chance  dependent  on  the 
uncertain  action  and  imperfect  wisdom  of  even  the 
best  of  earthly  friends.  The  One  who  began  His 
effort  of  saving  man  by  dying  for  him  will  not  after 
ward  neglect  the  work,  or  commit  it  wholly  to  weak 
human  hands. 

The  next  morning,  being  that  of  Saturday, 
brought  Annie  many  duties,  and  these,  with  callers, 
so  occupied  her  time  that  Gregory  saw  but  little 
of  her.  The  shadow  between  them  seemed  to 
have  passed  away,  and  she  treated  him  with  the 
utmost  kindness.  But  there  was  a  new  shadow  on 
her  face  that  he  could  not  understand,  and  after 
breakfast  he  said  to  her  as  they  were  passing  to  the 
parlor,  "  Miss  Walton,  you  seem  out  of  spirits.  I 
hope  nothing  painful  has  happened." 

"  Jeff  found  my  lost  letter  this  morning,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  have  been  deservedly  punished  anew, 
for  it  brought  me  unpleasant  tidings ;  "  and  she 
hastily  left  the  room,  as  if  not  wishing  to  speak 
further  on  the  matter. 

It  had  indeed  inflicted  a  heavy  disappointment, 
for  it  was  from  Hunting,  stating  that  business  would 
detain  him  some  days  longer  in  Europe.  But  she 
had  accepted  it  with  resignation,  and  felt  that  it  was 
but  a  light  penalty  for  all  her  folly  of  the  two  pre 
ceding  days. 

Gregory  was  not  a  little  curious  about  it,  for  he 
was  interested  now  in  everything  connected  with 
her ;  but  as  she  did  not  speak  of  it  again,  good  taste 


GREGOR  Y ' S  FINAL  CONCL  USION.  3 1 5 

required  that  he  should  not.  An  uncomfortable 
thought  of  Hunting  as  the  possible  writer  crossed 
his  mind,  but  he  drove  it  from  him  with  something 
like  rage. 

As  Gregory  sat  brooding  by  his  fire,  waiting  till 
the  sun  should  grow  higher  before  starting  for  a 
walk,  Jeff  came  up  with  an  armful  of  wood,  and 
seemed  bubbling  over  with  something.  He,  too, 
had  suffered  sorely  in  the  storm  he  had  helped  to 
raise  the  preceding  day,  and  had  tremblingly  eaten 
such  dinner  as  the  irate  Zibbie  had  tossed  on  the 
table  for  him,  as  a  man  might  lunch  in  the  vicinity 
of  a  bomb-shell.  He  seemed  to  relieve  himself  by 
saying,  with  his  characteristic  grin,  as  he  replenished 
the  fire,  "  It  was  dreadful  'pestuous  yesterday,  but 
de  winds  is  gone  down.  I'se  glad  dat  ole  hen  is 
done  for,  but  she  hatch  a  heap  ob  trouble  on  her 
las'  day." 

Jeff  belonged  to  that  large  school  of  modern  phil 
osophers  who  explain  the  evils  of  the  day  on  very 
superficial  grounds.  The  human  heart  is  all  right. 
It's  only  "  dat  ole  hen  "  or  unfavorable  circumstances 
of  3ome  kind,  that  do  the  mischief. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"  THE     WORM  -  INFESTED      CHESTNUT."  —  GREGORY 
TELLS  THE  WORST. 

IN  his  solitary  ramble,  Gregory  again  thought  long 
and  deeply  over  the  situation.  The  impression 
was  growing  strong  that  the  supreme  hour  of  his 
life,  which  would  decide  his  destiny  for  good  or  evil, 
was  fast  approaching.  For  years  previously  he  had 
given  up  the  struggle  against  the  latter,  and  had 
sunk  deep  in  moral  apathy,  making  greater  effort  to 
doubt  everything  concerning  God  than  to  believe. 
Then  he  had  lost  even  his  earthly  ambition,  and 
become  mere  driftwood  on  the  tide  of  time.  But  a 
sweet,  true  woman  was  doing  a  work  for  him  like  that 
of  Elsie  for  Prince  Henry  in  the  Golden  Legend.  A 
consciousness  of  power  to  take  up  his  burden  again 
and  be  a  man  among  men  was  coming  back,  and  old 
Daddy  Tuggar's  words  were  growing  into  a  hope- 
inspiring  prophecy:  "She  could  take  the  wickedest 
man  livin'  to  heaven,  if  she'd  stay  right  by  him." 

And  yet  his  self-distrust  was  painfully  and  danger, 
ously  great,  and  he  feared  that  when  Annie  came  to 
know  the  worst  about  him,  and  how  he  had  plotted 
against  her,  she  would  shrink  from  him.  If  she 
despaired  of  him  he  would  despair  of  himself.  He 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE  WORST. 

was  certain  that  he  could  not  win  even  an  intimate 
congenial  acquaintance,  much  less  a  more  tender 
regard,  unless  he  became  a  true,  good  man,  worthy 
of  her  confidence.  He  could  not  become  such  by 
commencing  in  deception, — by  hiding  the  past,  and 
trying  to  appear  what  he  was  not.  For  in  the  first 
place  she  would  certainly  find  him  out  and  despise 
him,  and  in  the  second  place  his  own  nature  now 
revolted  at  anything  false  in  his  relations  with  her. 
After  long  anxious  thought,  he  concluded  that  the 
only  safe,  as  well  as  the  only  honorable  course,  was 
perfect  frankness.  If  he  began  wrong,  the  end 
would  be  disastrous.  He  was  no  longer  subject  to 
school-boy  impulses,  but  was  a  mature  and  thought 
ful  man,  and  had  trained  himself  in  business  to  look 
far  and  keenly  into  the  consequences  of  present 
action.  He  saw  in  this  Walton  blood  an  intense 
antipathy  to  deceit.  His  own  nature  was  averse  to 
it  also,  and  his  experience  with  Hunting  had  made 
it  doubly  hateful.  His  pride  revolted  at  it,  for  his 
lack  of  hypocrisy  had  been  the  one  ground  of  self- 
respect  that  remained  in  him.  If  in  his  folly  and 
wickedness  he  had  blotted  out  the  possibility  of  a 
happy  future,  he  must  endure  the  terrible  truth  as 
he  could.  To  try  to  steal  into  heaven,  earthly  or 
celestial,  by  the  back  door  of  specious  seeming,  only 
to  be  discovered  in  his  true  character  and  cast  out 
with  greater  ignominy,  was  a  course  as  revolting  as 
foolish.  Annie  knew  him  to  be  a  man  of  the  world, 
with  sceptical  tendencies,  but  to  her  guileless  nature 
and  inexperience  this  might  not  mean  anything 


3 1 8  OPENING  A  CHES  TNUT  B  URR. 

very  bad.  In  the  secret  of  his  own  soul,  however^ 
he  had  to  meet  these  terrible  questions : 

"  Can  God  receive  and  pardon  a  willing  unbeliever, 
a  man  who  has  sinned  against  the  clearest  light,  a 
gambler,  a  libertine,  an  embodiment  of  selfishness? 
Can  it  be  that  Annie  Walton  will  ever  receive  even 
friendship  from  one  so  stained,  knowing  the  addi 
tional  fact  that  I  plotted  against  her  and  sought  for 
my  own  senseless  gratification  to  prove  that  she 
was  a  weak,  vain  woman,  who  would  be  no  better 
than  myself  if  tempted  in  like  manner?  It  is  true 
that  I  never  betrayed  innocence  or  wronged  a  man 
out  of  a  dollar.  It  is  true  that  in  the  code  of  the 
world  I  have  done  nothing  to  lose  my  character  as  a 
gentleman,  and  even  my  design  upon  Miss  Walton 
would  pass  as  a  harmless  flirtation  in  society ;  but 
the  code  of  the  world  has  no  force  in  her  pure  mind, 
and  the  license  it  permits  is  an  insult  to  the  law  of 
God.  And  now  it  is  not  with  the  world,  but  with 
her  and  heaven  that  I  have  to  deal.  Things  at  which 
society  shrugs  its  shoulders  indifferently  are  to  them 
crimes,  and  black  ones  too.  I  might  as  v/ell  seek 
her  love  with  a  felon's  indictment  hanging  over  me 
as  to  seek  it  hiding  my  past  life.  When  she  came 
to  find  me  out  she  would  feel  that  I  had  wronged 
her  unutterably,  and  confidence,  the  only  basis  of 
lasting  esteem,  would  be  gone. 

"  Deep  in  my  heart  I  have  never  doubted  my 
mother's  faith.  When  I  imagined  I  did  I  was  self- 
deceived.  Everything  -here  confirms  it,  and  Miss 
Walton  more  than  all.  I  will  consult  the  divine 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE   WORST.  319 

oracle.  She  shall  be  the  fair  vestal,  the  gentle 
priestess.  She  lives  near  to  heaven,  and  knows  its 
mind.  If  her  kind  and  womanly  nature  shrinks 
from  me,  if  she  coldly  draws  her  skirts  aside  that  I 
pollute  them  not  even  with  a  touch, — if  she  byword 
or  even  manner  proves  that  she  sees  an  impassable 
gulf  between  us, — then  she  need  waste  no  breath  in 
homilies  over  repentance  and  in  saying  that  God 
can  receive  those  whom  man  cannot.  I'll  not  even 
listen  but  go  back  to  the  city  and  meet  my  fate.  If 
imperfect  human  creatures  cannot  forgive  each 
other — if  I  have  gone  so  far  beyond  the  mercy  of  a 
tender-hearted  woman — then  I  need  look  for  noth 
ing  from  a  just  and  holy  God.  It's  mockery  for 
good  people,  with  horror  and  disgust  slightly  veiled 
upon  their  faces,  to  tell  poor  wretches  that  God  will 
receive  them  and  love  them,  while  they  would  no 
more  take  them  into  their  confidence  and  esteem 
than  they  would  a  pestilence.  It's  like  people  say 
ing  to  one  in  the  last  stage  of  consumption,  '  I  hope 
you  will  be  better  soon.'  They  don't  hope  or  expect 
any  such  thing.  The  Bible  is  said  to  teach  that  a 
man  can  sin  away  his  day  of  grace.  I  had  about 
believed  that  I  had  sinned  away  mine.  This  genu 
ine,  honest  Christian  girl  has  made  me  think  differ 
ently.  She  has  inspired  the  strong  hope  that  she 
could  lead  me  to  become  a  good  man, — even  a 
Christian.  She  shall  either  fulfil  that  hope  or  show 
it  to  be  false." 

Such  was  the  outline  of  his  thoughts  that  long 
day,  during  which  hope  and  fear  balanced  an  even 


320  OPENING  A  CHE STNUT  B  URR. 

scale.  But  the  evening  shadows  found  fear  pre 
dominating.  His  awakened  conscience  and  his 
recent  contact  with  true  moral  standards  revealed 
him  to  himself  in  darker  and  still  darker  shadow. 
At  times  he  was  almost  ready  to  despair,  to  bid  his 
entertainers  a  courteous  farewell  on  Monday,  and  go 
back  to  the  city  as  he  came,  with  the  additional 
wretchedness  of  having  seen  the  heaven  he  could 
not  enter. 

But  when  he  came  down  to  supper,  Annie  smiled 
*o  sweetly  and  looked  so  gentle  and  kind,  that  he 
thought,  "  She  does  not  seem  one  to  push  a  wretch 
over  a  precipice.  That  warm  little  hand  that 
charmed  away  my  headache  so  gently  cannot  write 
Dante's  inscription  over  my  '  Inferno,'  and  bid  me 
enter  it  as  '  my  own  place ; '  and  yet  I  dread  her 
sense  of  justice." 

In  his  anxiety  and  perturbation  of  mind  he  was 
usiusually  grave  and  silent  during  the  meal  and 
evening.  Annie  exulted  secretly  over  him. 

"  He  is  thinking  in  earnest  now.  His  old  apathy 
and  trifling  manner  are  gone." 

He  was  indeed  thinking  in  terrible  earnest.  Her 
effort  had  awakened  no  school-girl  interest  and  peni 
tence  that  she  could  soothe  and  reward  by  quoting 
a  few  sweet  promises,  but  had  aroused  a  spirit  like 
that  which  came  down  from  the  hills  of  Gadara, 
and  wh»ch  no  man  could  bind. 

Men  &jid  women  in  good  society  may  be  very 
polished  ind  refined,  and  yet  their  souls  in  God's 
sight  and  their  own  be  shameful,  "  naked,"  wearing 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE   WORST.  321 

fiO  robe  of  righteousness,  bound  by  no  laws  of  purity 
and  right,  and  "  always,  night  and  day,  crying  and 
cutting  "  themselves  in  the  unrest  of  remorse.  Sad 
and  yet  true  it  was  that  the  demon-possessed  man, 
the  terror  of  the  Gadarenes,  was  but  too  true  a  type 
of  the  gentlemanly  and  elegant  Walter  Gregory,  as 
he  sat  that  night  in  a  torment  of  dread  and  hope  at 
the  peaceful  fireside  of  a  Christian  family.  If  his 
fears  were  realized — if  Annie  turned  from  him  when 
he  revealed  his  true  self  to  her — there  seemed  to 
him  every  probability  that  evil  evermore  would  be 
his  master.  While  she  was  innocently  hoping  and 
praying  that  her  words  and  influence  might  lead 
him  to  read  his  Bible,  go  to  church,  and  event- 
ually  find  his  way  into  the  "  green  pastures  beside 
the  still  waters,"  it  seemed  that  within  a  few  hours 
she  would  either  avert  or  complete  that  most 
awful  of  tragedies, — the  loss  of  a  soul. 

He  accompanied  them  to  church  the  following" 
morning,  and  his  manner  was  grave  even  to  solem 
nity.  Little  wonder.  In  a  certain  sense,  in  view  of 
his  resolution,  the  Judgment  Day  had  come  to  him. 

With  heavy,  contracted  brows  he  listened  to  a  ser 
mon  anything  but  reassuring.  The  good  old  minis 
ter  inclined  to  a  legal  and  doctrinal  gospel,  and 
to-day  his  subject  was  the  perfection  and  searching 
character  of  the  divine  law.  He  showed  how  God 
could  make  no  terms  with  sin, — that  he  hated  it  with 
a  terrible  and  vindictive  hatred,  because  in  all  respects 
it  was  opposite  and  antagonistic  to  His  nature, — 
because  it  defiled,  degraded,  and  destroyed.  He 


322  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

traced  all  human  wretchedness  to  this  poisonous 
root,  and  Gregory  trembled  and  his  face  grew  dark 
with  despair  as  he  realized  how  it  was  inwoven  with 
every  fibre  of  his  heart.  Then  in  simple  but  strong 
language  the  silver-haired  old  man,  who  seemed  a 
type  of  the  ancient  prophets,  portrayed  the  great 
white  throne  of  God's  justice,  snowy,  too  dazzling 
for  human  eyes,  and  the  conscience-stricken  man 
shrunk  and  r  wered. 

He  turned  to  An.  ie  to  see  how  this  train  of 
thought,  so  terrific  to  him  affected  her.  Not  a  trace 
of  fear  was  upon  her  face,  but  only  serene,  reverent 
awe.  He  glanced  at  Mr.  Walton,  but  the  old  mag 
istrate  sat  in  his  place,  calm  and  dignified,  evidently 
approving  the  action  of  the  greater  Judge.  Miss 
Eulie's  face,  as  seen  between  himself  and  the  light 
of  the  window,  appeared  spirit-like. 

"Thus  they  will  look  on  the  Judgment  Day," 
thought  Gregory,  "  while  I  tremble  even  at  its 
picture.  O  the  vital  difference  between  guilt 
and  innocence,  between  faith  and  unbelief ! '' 

If  the  venerable  clergyman  had  been  talking  per 
sonally  to  Gregory  or  any  sinful  creature,  he  would 
not  have  concluded  his  subject  where  he  did.  He 
would  have  shown  how  between  the  throne  of  jus 
tice  and  the  sinner  there  stood  an  Advocate,  an  In 
tercessor,  a  Saviour.  But  having  logically  developed 
his  text,  he  finished  his  discourse.  Perhaps  on  the 
following  Sabbath  he  might  present  the  mercy  of 
God  with  equal  clearness.  But  the  sermon  of  the 
day.  standing  alone  and  confirming  the  threatenings 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE  WORST.  323 

of  an  accusing  conscience,  depressed  Gregory  greatly. 
It  did  not  anger  him,  as  such  truth  usually  did.  He 
was  too  weak  and  despairing.  He  now  felt  the 
hopelessness  and  folly  of  opposition.  The  idea  of 
getting  into  a  passion  with  fate  !  Only  weak  natures 
fume  at  the  inevitable.  There  is  a  certain  dignity 
in  silent,  passive  despair. 

Annie's  voice  singing  the  closing  hymn  beside 
him  sounded  like  an  angel's  voice  across  the  "  great 
gulf."  Almost  mechanically  he  walked  down  the 
aisle  out  into  the  sunny  noon  of  a  warm  October 
day.  Birds  were  twittering  around  the  porch.  Fall 
insects  filled  the  air  with  their  cheery  chirpings. 
The  bay  of  a  dog,  the  shrill  crowing  of  a  cock,  came 
softened  across  the  fields  from  a  neighboring  farm. 
Cow-bells  tinkled  faintly  in  the  distance,  and  two 
children  were  seen  romping  on  a  hillside,  flitting 
here  and  there  like  butterflies.  The  trees  were  in 
gala  dress  of  crimson  and  gold,  and  even  the  moun 
tains  veiled  their  stern  grandeur  in  a  purple  haze, 
through  which  the  sun's  rays  shimmered  with  genial 
but  not  oppressive  warmth. 

The  people  lingered  around  the  door,  shaking 
hands  and  greeting  one  another  with  the  plain  but 
cordial  courtesy  of  the  country.  Gregory  heard  one 
russet-apple-faced  man  say  that  "  Betsy  was  better," 
and  an  old  colored  woman,  with  a  visage  like  that 
apple  in  black  and  mottled  decay,  said  in  cheerful 
tones  that  "  little  Sampson  was  gittin'  right  peart." 
A  great  raw-boned  farmer  asked  a  half-grown  boy, 
M  How's  yer  mare  ?  "  arid  the  boy  replied  that  the 


324  OPENING  A   CHE STNUT  B URR. 

animal  was  better  also.  All  seemed  better  that 
bright  day,  and  from  a  group  near  came  the  expres 
sion,  "Crops  were  good  this  year."  While  the 
wealthier  and  more  cultured  members  of  the  con 
gregation  had  kindly  nods  and  smiles  for  all,  they 
naturally  drew  together,  and  there  seemed  a  little 
flutter  of  excitement  over  the  renewal  of  the  sewing 
society  that  had  been  discontinued  during  the  sum 
mer. 

Gregory  stood  apart  from  all  this,  with  the  heavy 
contraction  still  upon  his  brow,  and  asked  himself, 
"What  have  these  simple,  cheery,  commonplace  peo 
ple,  with  their  petty  earth-born  cares  and  interests, 
to  do  with  that  '  great  white  throne '  of  which  we 
have  just  heard  ?  and  where  in  this  soft,  dreamy 
landscape,  so  suggestive  of  peace,  rest,  and  every 
day  life,  lurks  any  hint  of  the  '  wrath  of  a  just  and 
holy  God  '?  " 

And  then  the  old  pastor,  who  a  little  before  had 
seemed  a  prototype  of  John,  the  stern  reformer  from 
the  wilderness,  came  out  smiling  and  benignant, 
greeting  his  flock  as  a  father  might  his  children. 
The  very  hand  that  had  been  raised  in  denunciation, 
and  in  threatening  a  doom  that  would  appall  the 
heart  of  courage  itself,  was  given  to  Gregory  in  a 
warm  and  cordial  grasp.  The  man  he  had  trembled 
before  now  seemed  the  personification  of  sweet-tem 
pered  human  kindness.  The  contrast  was  so  sharp 
that  it  seemed  to  Gregory  that  either  what  he  saw 
or  what  he  had  heard  must  be  an  utter  delusion. 

As  they  were  driving  home,  he  suddenly  broke 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE   WORST.  325 

the  moody  silence  by  asking  Miss  Walton,  "  How  do 
you  reconcile  the  scene  at  the  church  door,  so  matter- 
of-fact,  cheery,  and  earthly,  with  the  terrible  pictures 
suggested  by  the  sermon  ?  If  such  things  are  be 
fore  us,  it  seems  to  me  that  bright,  sunny  days  like 
these  are  mockery." 

She  looked  at  him  wistfully.  The  sermon  had  not 
been  what  she  would  have  wished,  but  she  trusted  it 
would  do  him  good  by  cutting  away  every  hope 
based  on  anything  in  himself  or  in  vague  general 
ideas  of  God's  indiscriminate  mercy.  She  answered 
gently,  "the  contrast  was  indeed  great,  now  I  think 
of  it,  and  yet  each  scene  was  *  matter-of-fact  :  to  me 
in  the  sense  of  being  real.  Besides,  that  one  which 
our  pastor  described  was  a  court  of  justice.  I  shall 
have  an  Advocate  there  who  will  clear  me.  As  for 
'  bright  days,'  I  believe  they  are  just  what  God 
means  His  people  to  have  always." 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  gloomily,  "that  is  your  side  of  the 
question." 

"  It  may  be  yours  also,"  she  replied,  in  a  low 
tone. 

He  shook  his  head  and  looked  away  to  hide  his 
pain. 

After  a  short  time  he  again  said,  "  Do  you  not 
think  that  the  view  of  God  which  your  minister 
gave  is  very  depressing  to  the  average  man  ?  Is  not 
His  law  too  perfect  for  imperfect  humanity?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  answered,  eagerly ;  but  before 
she  could  say  more,  Mr.  Walton,  unaware  of  the 
subject  occupying  them,  turned  from  the  front  seat 
and  introduced  another  topic. 


326  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

After  dinner,  Gregory  went  to  his  room,  which  he 
restlessly  paced. 

"  Even  her  creed,  her  faith,  as  well  as  her  purity 
and  truth,  raises  a  wall  as  high  as  heaven  between 
us,"  he  exclaimed,  bitterly.  "  She  has  only  to  see 
me  as  God  sees,  to  shrink  away  appalled,  disgusted. 
Well,  she  shall,"  he  muttered,  grinding  his  teeth  ;  "  I 
shall  not  add  the  worst  torment  of  all  to  my  perdi 
tion  by  deceiving  her." 

As  he  came  down  stairs,  Annie  had  just  finished 
reading  to  the  children,  and  he  said,  "  Miss  Walton, 
will  your  ideas  of  Sabbath-keeping  prevent  you  from 
taking  a  stroll  in  the  garden  with  me  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  replied,  smiling.  "  A  garden  is  a 
good  place  to  keep  Sunday  in." 

He  walked  silently  at  her  side  across  the  lawn 
down  a  shady  walk.  Annie  hoped  much  from  this 
interview,  and  sent  a  swift,  earnest  prayer  to  heaven 
that  she  might  speak  wisely.  She  feared  that  his  de 
jection  would  pass  into  discouragement  and  despair. 
She  saw  that  he  .was  much  depressed,  and  judged 
correctly  that  it  was  because  he  had  seen  only  one 
side  of  a  great  truth.  She  hoped  to  cheer  and 
inspire  him  with  the  other  side.  Moreover,  her 
religion  was  very  simple.  It  was  only  becoming 
God's  friend,  instead  of  remaining  indifferent  or  hos 
tile.  To  her,  no  matter  what  the  burden,  it  was 
simply  leading  the  heavy-laden  to  the  strong  Divine 
Friend  as  people  were  brought  to  Him  of  old,  and 
establishing  the  personal  relations  of  love,  faith,  and 
following. 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE  WORST.  327 

But  she  did  not  realize  the  desperate  nature  or 
the  complications  of  Gregory's  moral  infirmity.  Stili 
she  was  a  safe  adviser,  for  she  did  not  propose  to  cure 
him  herself.  She  wished  to  rally  and  cheer  him,  to 
inspire  hope,  and  to  turn  his  eyes  from  sin  to  the 
Saviour,  so  she  said,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  why  do  you 
look  as  if  marching  to  execution  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  because  I  feel  as  if  I  were,"  he  said. 

Just  then  a  variegated  leaf  parted  from  a  spray 
overhanging  the  path  somewhat  in  advance  of  them, 
and  fluttered  to  their  feet. 

"  Poor  little  leaf ! "  said  Gregory,  picking  it  up, 
"  your  bright  colors  will  soon  be  lost.  Death  has 
come  to  you  too.  Why  must  this  wretched  thought 
of  death  be  thrust  on  one  at  every  turn  ?  Nature  is 
full  of  it.  Things  only  live,  apparently,  for  the  sake 
of  dying.  Just  as  this  leaf  becomes  most  beautiful 
it  drops.  What  a  miserable  world  this  is,  with  death 
making  havoc  everywhere !  Then  your  theology 
exaggerates  the  evil  a  thousand-fold.  If  a  man  must 
die,  let  him  die  and  cease  to  be.  But  your  minister 
spoke  to-day  of  a  living  death,  in  which  one  only 
exists  to  suffer.  What  a  misfortune  to  have  ex 
isted  !  " 

As  Gregory  gloomily  uttered  these  bitter  words. 
they  stood  looking  at  the  leaf  that  had  suggested 
them.  Annie's  face  brightened  with  a  sudden 
thought.  She  turned,  and  after  a  few  rapid  steps 
sprung  lightly  up  and  caught  the  twig  from  which 
the  leaf  had  fallen.  Then  turning  to  her  com, 
panion,  who  regarded  with  surprise  and  admiration 


328  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

the  agile  grace  of  the  act,  she  said,  "  Mr.  Gregory; 
you  need  lessons  in  logic.  If  the  leaf  you  hold  Is 
your  theme,  as  you  gave  me  reason  to  believe,  you 
don't  stick  to  it,  and  you  draw  from  it  conclusions 
that  don't  follow  the  premise.  Another  thing,  it  is 
not  right  to  develop  a  subject  without  regard  to  its 
connection.  Now  from  just  this  place,"  she  contin 
ued,  pointing  with  her  finger,  "  the  leaf  dropped. 
What  do  you  see?  What  was  its  connection  ?  " 

"  Why,  a  little  branch  full  of  other  leaves.  These 
would  soon  have  dropped  off  and  died  also,  if  you 
had  not  hastened  their  fate." 

"  That's  a  superncial  view,  like  the  one  you  just 
took  of  this  '  miserable  world/  as  you  call  it.  I 
think  it  is  a  very  good  world, — a  much  better  one 
than  we  deserve.  And  now  look  closely  and  justly 
at  your  theme's  connection,  and  tell  me  what  you 
see.  Look  just  here  ;"  and  her  finger  rested  on  the 
little  green  spot  where  the  stem  of  the  leaf  had  joined 
the  spray. 

"  I  see  a  very  small  bud,"  he  said,  intelligence  of 
her  meaning  dawning  in  his  face. 

"  Which  will  develop  next  spring  into  other  leaves 
and  perhaps  into  a  new  branch.  All  summer  long 
your  leaf  has  rustled  and  fluttered  joyously  over  the 
certainty  that  a  richer  and  fuller  life  would  come 
after  it,  a  life  that  it  was  providing  for  through  the 
sunny  days  and  dewy  nights.  There  is  no  death 
here,  only  change  for  the  better.  And  sowitk  every, 
thing  that  has  bloomed  and  flourished  in  this  garden 
during  the  past  season,  provision  has  been  made  for 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE  WORST.  $29 

new  and  more  abundant  life.  All  these  bright  but 
falling  leaves  and  fading  flowers  are  merely  Nature's 
robes,  ornaments  that  she  is  throwing  carelessly  aside 
as  she  withdraws  for  a  little  time  from  her  regal 
state.  Wait  till  she  appears  again  next  spring,  as 
young,  fresh,  and  beautiful  as  when,  like  E\re,  she 
saw  her  first  bright  morning.  Come  and  see  her 
upon  her  throne  next  June.  Nature  full  of  death! 
Why,  Mr.  Gregory,  she  speaks  of  nothing  but  life  to 
those  who  understand  her  language." 

"  O  that  you  would  teach  it  to  me  !  "  he  said,  with 
a  deeper  meaning  than  she  detected. 

"Again,"  she  continued,  "  our  theology  does  not 
represent  death  as  making  havoc  anywhere.  It  is 
sin  that  makes  the  havoc,  and  death  is  only  one  of 
its  consequences.  And  even  this  enemy  God  com 
pels  to  work  for  the  good  of  His  friends.  Do  not 
think,"  she  continued,  coming  a  step  nearer  in  her 
earnestness,  "  that  I  make  such  allusions  to  pain 
you,  but  only  in  my  sincere  wish  to  help  you,  and 
illustrate  my  meaning  by  something  you  know  so 
well.  Did  death  make  havoc  in  your  mother's  case? 
Was  it  not  rather  a  sombre-liveried  janitor  that 
opened  for  her  the  gates  of  heaven  ?  " 

He  was  deeply  touched,  and  turned  away  his  face. 
After  a  moment  he  continued  his  walk,  that  they 
might  get  farther  away  from  the  house  and  the 
danger  of  interruption. 

He  suddenly  startled  Annie  by  saying,  in  a  tone 
of  harsh  and  intense  bitterness,  "  Her  death  made 
'  havoc  '  for  me.  If  she  had  lived  I  might  have 


33°  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

been  a  good  man  instead  of  the  wretch  I  am.  If 
death  as  janitor  opens  the  gates  of  heaven,  your 
religion  teaches  that  it  also  opens  the  gates  of  hell. 
How  can  I  love  a  God  who  shuts  up  the  sinful  in  an 
inferno, — in  dungeons  of  many  and  varied  tortures, 
and  racks  them  forever?  Can  I,  just  to  escape  all 
this,  pretend  that  I  love  Him,  when  in  truth  I  fear 
and  dread  Him  unspeakably?  No,  I'll  never  be  a 
hypocrite." 

Tears  glistened  in  Annie's  eyes  as  he  turned  to 
look  at  her. 

"You  pity  me/'  he  said,  more  gently.  "Your 
God  does  not.  If  He  wanted  to  be  loved  He 
should  never  have  revealed  a  hell." 

"Should  He  not  in  mercy,  if  it  really  existed? 
And  does  it  not  exist?  Will  merely  a  beautiful 
place  make  heaven  for  anybody?  Mr.  Gregory, 
look  around  this  lovely  autumn  evening.  See  the 
crimson  glory  of  those  clouds  yonder  in  the 
west.  See  that  brightness  shading  off  into 
paler  and  more  exquisite  tints.  Look,  how  those 
many-hued  leaves  reflect  the  glowing  sky.  The  air 
is  as  sweet  and  balmy  as  that  of  Eden  could  have 
been.  The  landscape  is  beautiful  in  itself,  and 
especially  attractive  to  you.  To  our  human  eyes  it 
hardly  seems  as  if  heaven  could  be  more  perfect 
than  this.  And  yet,  standing  in  the  one  spot  of  all 
the  earth  most  beautiful  to  you,  Mr.  Gregory, 
pardon  me  for  saying  it,  your  face  expresses  noth 
ing  but  pain.  There  is  not  a  trace  of  happiness 
in  it.  You  were  not  happy  when  you  came  here.  I 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE  WORST.  331 

saw  that  the  first  day.  All  the  pleasant  surround 
ings  of  your  own  home  have  not  made  you  happy. 
Have  they  given  you  even  peace  and  quiet  ?  Place 
does  not  make  heaven,  but  something  we  carry  in 
our  own  bosoms,"  she  concluded,  leaving  him  to 
supply  the  rest  of  her  thought. 

His  face  was  white  with  fear,  and  there  was  terror 
in  his  tone  as  he  turned  and  said  to  her,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  Miss  Walton,  that  is  what  I  have  been  com 
ing  to  see  and  dread,  of  late,  and  as  you  put  the 
thought  into  words  I  see  that  it  is  true.  I  carry 
perdition  in  my  own  heart.  When  I  am  alone  my 
imaginings  frighten  me;  and  when  with  others, 
impulses  arise  to  do  the  devil's  own  work." 

"  But  it  is  the  nature  of  God  to  save  from  all  this. 
I  am  so  sorry  that  you  do  not  understand  Him 
better." 

"  He  saves  some,"  said  Gregory,  gloomily. 

"  But  many  will  not  let  Him  save  them,"  urged 
Annie. 

"  I  should  be  only  too  glad  to  have  Him  save  me, 
but  whether  He  will  or  not  is  the  point  at  issue,  and 
my  hope  is  very  faint.  Everything  to-day,  but  you, 
seems  to  confirm  my  fate.  Miss  Walton,  won't  you 
take  that  little  rustic  seat  there  by  the  brook  ?  I 
wish  to  tell  you  something  that  will  probably  settle 
this  question." 

Annie  wonderingly  complied.  This  was  an 
experience  she  had  never  had  before.  She  was 
rapidly  realizing  the  difference  between  being  the 
spiritual  guide  of  the  girls  in  her  Bible-class  and 


33  2  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

being  the  adviser  of  this  strong-minded  yet  greatly 
perverted  man.  But  she  turned  to  him  a  face  full 
of  sympathy  and  encouragement. 

For  a  moment  it  seemed  he  did  not  know  how  to 
begin,  and  he  paced  restlessly  up  and  down  before 
her.  Then  he  said,  "  Miss  Walton,  you  remember 
that  worm-infested  chestnut  through  which  you 
gave  me  such  a  just  lesson?  " 

"  Please  do  not  speak  of  my  foolish  words  at  that 
time,"  she  replied,  eagerly. 

"  Pardon  me,  they  were  not  foolish.  They,  with 
the  illustration  of  my  own  choice,  revealed  me  to 
myself  as  nothing  had  ever  done  before.  Had 
it  not  been  for  your  graceful  tact,  I  should  have 
made  a  fool  of  myself  by  being  angry.  If  you 
had  known  what  I  deserved  then  you  would 
not  have  let  me  off  so  easily.  But  it's  true. 
That  lonely,  selfish  chestnut,  with  a  worm  in 
its  kernel,  was  a  good  emblem  of  myself.  Evil  is 
throned  in  my  heart  supreme  and  malignant.  I  sup 
pose  it's  through  my  own  fault,  but  be  that  as  it 
may,  it's  there,  my  master.  I  groan  over  and  curse 
the  fact,  but  I  do  evil  and  think  evil  continually, 
and  I  fear  I  always  shall. 

"  No,  listen  to  me  to  the  end,"  he  continued,  as 
she  was  about  to  speak. 

"  When  on  that  strange  mountain  expedition,  you 
made  the  remark,  '  What  congenial  friends  we  might 
be ! '  Those  words  have  echoed  in  my  heart  ever 
since,  like  the  refrain  of  a  home-song  to  a  captive. 
I  would  give  more  than  I  can  express  for  your 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE  WORST.  333 

friendship, — for  the  privilege  of  seeing  you  and 
speaking  to  you  frankly  on  these  subjects  occasion 
ally,  for  you  and  you  only  have  inspired  a  faint 
hope  that  I  might  become  a  better  man.  You  are 
making  Christianity  seem  a  reality  and  not  a 
fashion.  Though  possessing  human  weakness,  you 
triumph  over  it,  and  you  say  it  is  through  prayer  to 
God.  I  find  it  impossible  not  to  believe  everything 
you  say,  for  whatever  your  faults  are  you  are  truth 
itself.  Through  your  influence  the  thought  has 
come  that  God  might  also  hear  and  help  me,  but  I 
have  the  fear  and  almost  the  belief  that  I  have 
placed  myself  beyond  His  mercy.  At  any  rate  I 
have  almost  lost  hope  in  anything  I  can  do  by  my 
self.  I  was  in  moral  despair  when  I  came  here,  and 
might  as  well  have  been  dead,  but  you  have  led  me 
to  a  willingness  to  make  one  more  struggle,  and  a 
great  one,  if  I  can  see  in  it  any  chance  of  success.  I 
fear  I  am  deceiving  myself,  but  when  with  you, 
though  you  are  immeasurably  better  than  I,  hope 
steals  into  my  heart,  that  before  was  paralyzed  by 
despair.  When  you  come  to  know  me  as  I  know 
myself,  I  fear  that  you  will  shrink  in  just  horror 
away,  and  that  I  shall  see  reflected  in  your  face  the 
verdict  of  heaven.  But  you  shall  know  the  worst, — 
the  very  worst.  I  can  never  use  deceit  with  you. 
If  afterward  you  ever  take  my  stained  hand  again — " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  heaved  a  great 
sigh,  as  if  of  longing  and  hope  that  words  could  not 
utter. 

It  was  the  old  truth  illustrated,  that   God  must 


334  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

become  human  to  gain  humanity.  Abstract  truth 
could  not  save  this  lost  and  guilty  man,  but  the 
wanderer  hoped  that  in  this  sweet  human  life  he 
had  found  the  clew  back  to  the  divine  life. 

Annie  trembled  at  the  responsibility  that  now 
suddenly  burdened  her  as  she  saw  this  trembling 
spirit  clinging  to  her  as  the  one  frail  barrier 
between  himself  and  the  gulf  of  utter  despair.  She 
nerved  herself,  by  prayer  and  the  exertion  of  all  her 
will,  to  be  equal  to  the  emergency. 

And  yet  it  was  a  fearful  ordeal  that  she  was  called 
to  go  through  as  the  remorseful  and  deeply  agitated 
man,  his  face  flushed  with  shame,  now  with  impas 
sioned,  more  often  with  despairing  gesture  and 
accent,  poured  out  the  story  of  his  past  life,  and 
laid  bare  his  evil  heart,  while  he  paced  up  and  down 
the  little  walk  before  her. 

The  transaction  with  Hunting  he  purposely  passed 
over,  speaking  of  it  merely  as  a  business  misfortune 
that  had  robbed  him  even  of  earthly  ambition.  She 
saw  a  few  sin-stained  pages  of  that  .dreadful  book  of 
human  guilt  which  God  must  look  at  every  day. 

Gregory  did  not  spare  himself,  and  palliated  noth 
ing,  softening  and  brightening  no  harsh  and  dark 
lines.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  stern  and  blunt,  and 
it  was  strange  indeed  to  hear  him  charging  himself 
before  a  pure,  innocent  young  girl,  whose  good 
opinion  was  life  to  him,  with  what  she  regarded  as 
crimes.  When  he  at  last  came  to  speak  of  his 
designs  against  herself,  of  how  he  had  purposed  to 
take  the  bloom  and  beauty  i'rom  her  character  that: 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE   WORST.  335 

he  might  laugh  at  goodness  as  a  dream  and  pre 
tence,  and  despise  her  as  he  did  himself,  his  eye 
flashed  angrily,  and  he  grew  vindictive  as  if 
denouncing  an  object  of  his  hate.  He  could  not 
even  look  at  her  during  the  last  of  his  confession, 
but  turned  away  his  face,  fearing  to  see  Annie's 
expression  of  aversion  and  disgust. 

It  was  with  a  paling  cheek  and  growing  dread  that 
she  looked  into  that  dark  and  fearful  place,  a  per 
verted  human  heart,  and  her  every  breath  was  a 
prayer  that  God  would  enable  her  to  see  and  act  as 
Christ  would  were  some  poor  creature  revealing  to 
Him  his  desperate  need. 

Gregory  suddenly  paused  in  his  low  but  passionate 
flow  of  words,  and  put  his  hand  to  his  head  as  if  the 
pain  were  insupportable.  In  fact,  his  anguish  and 
the  intense  feeling  of  the  day  had  again  brought  on 
one  of  his  old  nervous  headaches.  Thus  far  he  had 
scarcely  noticed  it,  but  now  the  sharp,  quivering 
pangs  proved  how  a  wronged  physical  nature  could 
retaliate;  how  much  more  the  higher  and  more 
delicate  moral  nature ! 

After  the  paroxysm  had  passed,  he  continued,  in 
the  hard,  weary  tone  of  utter  dejection  (for  he  had 
dreaded  even  to  look  at  Annie,  and  her  silence  con- 
firmed  his  worst  fears),  "Well,  Miss  Walton,  you 
now  know  the  worst.  On  this  peaceful  Sabbath 
evening  you  have  seen  more  of  perdition  than  you 
ever  will  again.  You  cannot  even  speak  to  me,  and 
I  dare  not  look  at  your  face.  The  expression  of 
horror  and  disgust  which  I  know  must  be  there 


336  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

would  blast  me  and  haunt  me  forever.  It  would  be 
worse  than  death,  for  I  did  have  a  faint  hope — " 

He  was  interrupted  by  an  audible  sob,  and  turn 
ing,  saw  Annie  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands, 
weeping  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  He  was  puz 
zled  for  a  moment,  and  then,  in  the  despairing  con 
dition  of  his  mind,  interpreted  her  wrongly.  Stand 
ing  near  her  with  clinched  hands,  he  said,  in  the 
same  hard  tones  which  seemed  to  have  passed 
beyond  the  expression  of  feeling,  "  I'm  a  brute  and 
worse.  I  have  been  wounding  you  as  with  blows 
by  my  vile  story.  I  have  been  dragging  your  pure 
thoughts  through  the  mire  of  my  wretched  life." 

Annie  tried  to  speak,  but  apparently  could  not. 
for  excess  of  emotion. 

"Why  could  I  not  have  gone  away  and  died  by 
myself,  like  some  unclean  beast  ? "  he  muttered. 
Then,  in  a  tone  which  she  never  forgot,  and  with 
the  manner  of  one  who  was  indeed  leaving  hope 
and  life  behind  him,  he  said,  "  Farewell,  Miss  Wal 
ton  ;  you  will  be  better  after  I  am  gone." 

She  sprung  up,  and  laying  restraining  hands  upon 
his  arm,  sobbed,  "  No — no.  Why  don't — you — 
understand  me?  My  heart's — breaking  for  you — 
wait  till  I  can  speak." 

He  placed  her  gently  on  the  seat  again.  A  great 
light  was  coming  into  his  eyes,  and  he  stood  bending 
toward  her  as  if  existence  depended  on  her  next 
words.  Could  it  be  that  her  swelling  throat  and 
sobs  meant  sympathy  for  him  ? 

She   soon   controlled   herself,  and  looking  up  at 


GREGORY  TELLS  ~HE  WORST.  337 

hiii,  with  a  light  in  her  :yes  that  shone  thwugh 
her  tears  as  sun-rays  through  the  rain,  said, 
"  Forgive  me.  I  never  realized  before  that  so 
much  sin  and  suffering  could  exist  in  one  unhappy  life. 
I  do  pity  you,  as  God  does  far  more.  I  will  help 
you  as  He  will." 

Gregory  knelt  at  her  feet,  and  kissed  her  hand 
with  the  fervor  of  a  captive  who  had  just  received 
life  ar.d  liberty. 

"  See,  I  do  not  shrink  from  you,"  she  continued. 
"  My  Master  would  not.  Why  should  I  ?  He  came 
to  save  just  such,  and  just  such  we  all  should  be  but 
for  His  grace  and  shielding.  I'm  so — sorry  for  you." 

He  turned  hastily  away  for  a  moment  to  hide  his 
feelings,  and  said,  slowly,  "  I  cannot  trust  myself — I 
cannot  trust  God  yet ;  but  I  trust  you,  and  I  believe 
you  have  saved  a  soul  from  death." 

He  stood  looking  toward  the  glowing  west,  and, 
for  the  first  time  in  years,  hoped  that  his  life  might 
close  in  brightness. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  Annie,  in  a  voice  so  changed 
that  he  started  and  turned  toward  her  hardly  know 
ing  what  to  expect.  She  stood  beside  him,  no 
longer  a  tender,  compassionate  woman  grieving  for 
him,  as  if  his  sin  were  only  misfortune,  but  her  face 
was  almost  stern  in  its  purity  and  earnestness.  "  Mr. 
Gregory,  the  mercy  which  God  shows,  and  which  I 
faintly  reflect,  is  for  you  in  sharp  distinction  from 
your  sin.  Do  not  for  a  moment  think  that  I  can 
look  with  any  leniency  or  indulgence  on  all  the  hor 
rible  evil  you  have  laid  before  me.  Do  not  think  I 


338  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

can  excuse  or  pass  lightly  over  it  as  something  of 
little  consequence.  I  hate  your  sin  as  I  hate  m/ 
own.  I  can  honestly  feel  and  frankly  show  tie 
sympathy  I  have  manifested,  only  in  view  of  ycur 
penitence,  and  your  sincere  purpose,  with  God's 
help,  to  root  out  the  evil  of  your  life.  This  I  am 
daily  trying  to  do,  and  this  you  must  do  in  the  one 
and  only  way  in  which  there  is  any  use  in  trying.  It 
is  only  with  this  clear  understanding  that  I  can  give 
you  my  hand  in  the  friendship  of  mutual  helpful- 
ness,  and  in  the  confidence  of  respect/' 

He  reverently  took  her  hand  and  said,  "  Your  con- 
ditions  are  just,  Miss  Walton,  and  I  accept  your 
friendship  as  offered  with  a  gratitude  beyond  words. 
I  can  never  use  deceit  where  you  are  concerned, 
even  in  thought.  But  please  do  not  expect  too 
much  of  me.  I  have  formed  the  habit  of  doubting. 
It  may  be  very  long  before  I  have  your  simple, 
beautiful  faith.  I  will  do  just  the  best  I  can !  It 
seems  that  if  you  will  trust  me,  help  me,  pray  for 
me,  I  can  succeed.  If  lam  mistaken,  I  will  carry 
my  wretchedness  where  the  sight  of  it  will  not  pain 
you.  If  I  ever  do  reach  your  Christian  life,  I  will 
lavish  a  wealth  of  gratitude  upon  you  that  cannot 
be  expressed.  Indeed,  I  will  in  any  case,  for  you 
have  done  all  that  I  could  hope  and  more." 

"  I  will  do  all  you  ask,'*  she  said,  heartily,  giving 
at  the  same  time  his  hand  a  strong  pressure  with 
her  warm,  throbbing  palm,  that  sent  a  subtle  cur 
rent  of  hope  and  strength  into  his  heart.  Her  face 
softened  into  an  expression  of  almost  sisterly  affec- 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE   WORST.  339 

tion,  and  with  a  gleam  of  her  old  mirthfulness  she 
continued,  "  Take  counsel  of  practical  common- 
sense,  Mr.  Gregory.  Why  talk  so  doubtfully  of 
success,  seeking  it  as  you  purpose  to?  What  right 
have  you  even  to  imagine  that  God  will  bestow 
upon  you  the  great  distinction  of  making  you  the 
first  one  of  the  race  He  refused  to  hear  and 
answer?  Be  humble  and  believe  that  He  will 
treat  you  like  other  people." 

He  stopped  in  their  slow  walk  toward  the  house 
and  said,  with  glad  animation,  "  Miss  Walton,  do 
you  know  you  have  done  more  to  strengthen  me  in 
that  little  speech  than  by  a  long  and  labored  argu 
ment?" 

And  so  they  passed  in  out  of  the  purple  twilight, 
Annie's  heart  thrilling  with  something  of  the  joy  of 
heaven,  and  Gregory  feeling  as  if  the  dawn  were 
coming  after  Egyptian  night. 

As  they  left  the  garden  a  dusky  face  peered  out 
of  some  thick  shrubbery  and  looked  cautiously 
around.  Then  Jeff  appeared  and  attributed  to  the 
scene  just  described  a  very  different  meaning  from 
its  real  significance. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE  OLD  HOME  IN  DANGER.— GREGORY  RETRIEVES 
HIMSELF. 

/^REGORY  made  desperate  efforts  to  keep  up  at 
VJT  the  supper-table,  but  could  not  prevent  slight  evi 
dences  of  physical  pain,  which  Annie  silently  noticed. 
After  tea  he  hoped  to  escape  to  his  room,  for  he 
could  not  endure  to  show  even  his  physical  weak 
ness  so  soon  again.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  long 
ing  intensely  for  an  opportunity  to  manifest  a  little 
strength  of  some  kind.  After  his  recent  interview 
he  felt  that  he  could  even  bear  one  of  his  nervous 
headaches  alone.  But  as  he  was  about  to  excuse 
himself,  Annie  interrupted,  saying,  "  Now,  Mr. 
Gregory,  that  is  not  according  to  agreement.  Do 
you  suppose  I  cannot  see  that  you  are  half  beside 
yourself  with  one  of  your  old  headaches  ?  Was  I 
such  a  poor  physician  the  last  time  that  you  seek  to 
escape  me  now?  Come  back  to  the  parlor.  I  will 
not  go  out  to  church  this  evening,  but  devote  myself 
to  you." 

"  Miss  Walton,"  he  replied,  in  a  low  tone,  "when 
can  I  make  any  return  for  all  your  kindness?  I 
must  seem  weakness  itself  in  every  respect,  and  I 
dread  to  appear  to  you  always  in  that  light." 

"  Your  pride  needs  bringing  down,  sir ;  see  how 


GREGOR  Y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  341 

towering  it  is.  Here  you  would  go  off  by  yourself, 
and  endure  a  useless  martyrdom  all  night  perhaps, 
when  by  a  few  simple  remedies  I  can  relieve  you,  or 
at  least  help  you  forget  the  pain.  I  have  not  the 
slightest  objection  to  your  being  a  martyr,  but  I 
want  some  good  to  come  out  of  it." 

"But  I  shall  spoil  your  evening." 

"  Certainly  you  will,  if  I  think  of  you  groaning  up 
there  by  yourself,  while  I  am  singing,  perhaps, 

"  '  I  love  to  ste  J  awhile  away 
From  every  cumbering  care ' ! " 

"  Then  I'm  a  cumbenn^  care  !  " 

"Whether  you  are  or  not,  I'm  not  going  to  steal 
away  from  you  to-night.  Come,  do  as  I  bid  you." 

He  was  only  too  glad  to  submit  to  her  delicious 
tyranny.  She  wheeled  the  lounge  up  to  the  fire, 
and  placed  her  chair  beside  it,  while  the  rest  of  the 
family,  seeing  that  he  had  his  old  malady,  went  to 
the  sitting-room. 

"  I  have  great  pride  in  my  nursing  powers,"  she 
continued,  in  her  cheery  way.  "  Now,  if  I  were  a 
man,  I'd  certainly  be  a  doctor." 

"  Thank  Heaven  you  are  not !  "  he  said,  with  a 
devout  earnestness  that  quite  startled  her. 

"  What  ?     A  doctor  ?  "  she  asked,  quickly. 

"  Yes — no  ;  I  mean  a  man,  and  doctor  too." 

"  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should  show  such  bit 
ter  opposition  to  my  being  a  man  or  a  doctor  either. 
Why  should  you  ?  " 

"  O — well — I  think  you  are  just  right  as  a  woman. 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

You  make  me  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  electionv  foi 
it  seems  to  me  that  you  were  destined  from  all 
eternity  to  be  just  what  you  are." 

44  What  a  strange,  unfathomable  doctrine  that  is  ! " 
said  Annie,  softly  and  musingly. 

"  It's  nothing  but  mystery  all  around  us,"  he 
replied,  wearily  and  dejectedly. 

"No,  not  'all  around  us/"  she  answered,  quickly. 
"  It's  clear  when  we  look  up.  Faith  builds  a  safe 
bridge  to  God,  and  to  Him  there  are  no  mysteries." 

Her  touch  upon  his  brow  thrilled  him,  and  her 
presence  was  both  exhilarating  and  restful. 

At  last  she  said,  "  I  am  sorry  you  have  these  dread 
ful  headaches  so  often." 

"  I  shall  never  be  again." 

"Why  so?" 

"  Because  they  have  led  to  this  evening.  It  has 
been  so  many  long,  miserable  years  since  I  experi 
enced  anything  like  this." 

"Ah,  I  see,  you  have  been  very  lonely.  You  have 
had  no  one  to  care  for  you,  and  that  I  believe  has 
been  the  cause  of  half  your  trouble — evil,  I  mean. 
Indeed,  they  are  about  the  same  thing.  Don't  you 
see?  The  world  is  too  large  a  place  for  a  home. 
You  need  a  nook  in  it,  with  some  one  there  to  look 
after  you  and  for  you  to  think  about." 

He  looked  at  her  searchingly,  and  then  turned 
away  his  face  in  pain.  She  could  not  utter  such 
words  in  that  placid  style,  were  she  not  utterly 
devoid  of  the  feeling  that  was  filling  his  soul  with 
an  ecstasy  of  hope  and  fear. 


GREGOR  y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  343 

"  Do  not  think  that  even  many  of  our  sex  are  like 
Miss  Bently.  You  will  see  and  choose  more  wisely 
hereafter,  and  find  that,  in  exchanging  that  wretched 
club-life  for  a  cosey  home  of  your  own,  you  take  a 
good  step  in  all  respects." 

"  Would  to  Heaven  that  I  had  met  such  a  girl  as 
you  at  first !  "  he  ventured  to  say.  "  How  different 
then  all  might  have  been  !  " 

"There  is  no  use  in  dwelling  on  the  past/*  she 
replied,  innocently.  "You  are  now  pledged  to 
make  the  future  right." 

"  God  helping  me,  I  will.  I  will  use  every  means 
in  my  power,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  deep  earnestness; 
and,  as  principal  part  of  the  means,  determined  to 
take  her  advice,  but  with  reference  to  herself. 
After  a  few  moments  he  said,  "  Miss  Walton,  as  I 
promised  to  be  perfectly  frank  with  you,  I  want  to 
ask  an  explanation  of  something  that  I  do  not  under 
stand,  and  which  has  been  almost  a  heavenly  surprise 
to  me.  I  was  nearly  certain  before  this  afternoon 
that  when  you  came  to  know  what  a  stained,  evil 
man  I  am — " 

"Was,"  interrupted  Annie. 

"No,  what  I  am.  Character  is  not  made  in  a 
moment.  As  yet,  I  only  hope  and  purpose  to  do 
better.  I  can  hardly  understand  why  you  do  not 
shrink  from  me  in  disgust.  It  seemed  that  both 
your  faith  and  your  nature  would  lead  you  to  do 
this.  I  thought  it  possible  that  out  of  your  kind 
ness  you  might  try  to  stand  at  a  safe  distance  and 
give  me  some  good  advice  across  the  gulf.  But 


344  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

that  which  I  feared  would  drive  you  from  me  forever 
has  only  brought  you  nearer,  Again  I  say,  it  has 
been  a  heavenly  surprise." 

"You  use  the  word  '  heavenly '  with  more  appro, 
priateness  than  you  think,"  she  replied,  gravely.  "  All 
such  surprises  are  heavenly  in  their  origin,  and  my 
course  is  but  a  faint  reflection  of  heaven's  disposition 
toward  you,  and  was  prompted  by  the  duty  I  owe 
to  God  as  well  as  to  you.  Self-righteousness  would 
have  led  me  in  Pharisaic  pride  to  say,  '  Stand  aside,  I 
am  holier  than  thou.'  But  you  have  only  to  read 
the  life  of  the  perfect  One  to  know  that  in  so  doing 
I  should  not  have  been  like  Him.  He  laid  His 
rescuing  hands  on  both  the  physical  and  the  moral 
leper — " 

"As  you  have  upon  me,"  said  Gregory,  with  a 
look  of  such  intense  gratitude  that  she  was  embar 
rassed. 

"  I  deserve  no  great  credit,  for  it  was  only  right 
that  I  should  do  the  utmost  in  my  power  to  help 
you.  How  else  could  I  be  a  Christian  in  any  real 
sense  ?  But  there  is  nothing  strange  about  it. 
Christianity  is  not  like  false  religions,  that  re 
quire  unnatural  and  useless  sacrifices.  If  I  were 
a  true  physician,  and  found  you  suffering  from  a 
terrible  and  contagious  disease,  while  I  feared  and 
loathed  the  disease,  I  might  have  the  deepest 
sympathy  for  you  and  do  my  best  to  cure  you.  I 
do  loathe  the  sin  you  confessed,  inexpressibly.  See 
how  near  it  came  to  destroying  you.  While  God 
hates  the  sin,  He  ever  loves  the  sinful." 


GREGOR  Y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  345 

"  I  hope  you  will  always  be  divine  in  that  respect," 
he  could  not  forbear  saying,  with  rising  color. 

But  her  thoughts  were  so  intent  on  what  was 
uppermost  in  her  heart  that  she  did  not  notice  his 
covert  meaning,  and  said,  innocently,  "  I  will  give 
you  honest  friendship  so  long  as  you  honestly  try 
to  redeem  the  pledges  of  to-day." 

"  Then  I  have  your  friendship  for  life,  be  it  long 
or  short,"  said  he,  decisively. 

With  more  lightness  in  her  tone  she  continued, 
"  And  I  too  will  ask  a  question  that  has  a  bearing 
on  a  little  theory  of  my  own.  Supposing  I  had 
shrunk  from  you,  and  tried  to  give  some  good  advice 
from  a  safe  distance,  what  would  you  have  done?" 

"  Left  for  New  York  to-morrow,  and  gone  straight 
to  the  devil  as  one  of  his  own  imps,"  he  replied, 
without  a  moment's  hesitation. 

She  sighed  deeply,  and  said,  "  I  fear  you  would, — 
that  is,  if  left  to  yourself.  And  the  worst  of  it  is, 
it  seems  to  me  that  this  is  the  way  the  Church  is 
trying  to  save  the  world.  Suppose  a  doctor  should 
address  his  patients  through  a  speaking-trumpet  and 
hand  them  his  remedies  on  the  end  of  a  very  long 
rod.  Death  would  laugh  at  his  efforts.  People  can 
be  saved  only  as  Christ  saved  them.  We  must  go 
where  they  are,  lay  our  hands  upon  them,  and  look 
sympathy  and  hope  right  into  their  eyes.  If  Christ's 
followers  would  only  do  this,  how  many  more  might 
be  rescued  who  now  seem  hopelessly  given  over  to 
evil !  " 

"  Those  who  won't  do  it,"  said  Gregory,  bitterly, 


346  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  are  in  no  sense  His  true  followers,  but  are  merely 
the  *  hangers  on'  of  His  army,  seeking  to  get  out  of 
it  all  they  can  for  self.  Every  general  knows  that 
the  'camp-followers'  are  the  bane  of  an  army." 

"  Come,  Mr.  Gregary,"  said  she,  gently,  "  we  are 
not  the  general,  and  therefore  not  the  judge.  After 
this  I  shall  expect  to  see  you  in  the  regular  ranks, 
ready  to  give  and  take  blows." 

They  now  joined  Mr.  Walton  and  Miss  Eulie  in 
the  sitting-room,  and  Gregory  professed  to  feel,  and 
indeed  was,  much  better,  and  after  a  little  music 
they  separated  for  the  night.  Although  still  suffer 
ing,  Gregory  sat  by  his  fire  a  long  time,  forgetful  of 
pain. 

High,  blustering  winds  prevailed  all  the  following 
day,  but  they  only  made  the  quiet  and  cosiness  of 
Mr.  Walton's  fireside  more  delightful.  Gregory  did 
not  care  to  go  out  if  he  went  alone.  He  wished  to 
be  where  he  could  see  Annie  as  often  as  possible, 
for  every  word  and  smile  from  her  in  the  intervals 
of  her  duties  was  precious.  He  did  honestly  mean 
to  become  a  good  man  if  it  were  possible,  but  he 
saw  in  her  the  only  hopeful  means.  He  did  not 
pretend  to  either  faith  in  God  or  love  for  Him  as 
yet,  but  only  felt  a  glow  of  gratitude,  a  warming  of 
his  heart  toward  Him  in  view  of  His  great  mercy  in 
sending  to  his  aid  such  a  ministering  spirit  as  Annie 
had  proved.  He  took  it  as  an  omen  that  God 
meant  kindly  by  him,  and  through  this  human  hand 
might  save  at  last. 

And  he  clung  to  this  hand  as  the  drowning  do  to 


GREGOR  Y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  347 

anything  that  keeps  them  from  sinking  into  dark 
and  unknown  depths.  He  saw  in  Annie  Walton 
earthly  happiness  certainly,  and  his  best  prospect  of 
heaven.  What  wonder  then  that  his  heart  lay  at 
her  feet  in  entire  consecration?  Apart  from  the 
peculiar  fascination  that  she  herself  had  for  him,  he 
had  motives  for  loving  her  that  actuate  but  few.  If 
she  had  saved  him  from  physical  death  it  would 
have  been  a  little  thing  in  comparison,  but  he  shud 
dered  to  think  of  the  precipice  from  which  she  had 
drawn  him  back. 

He  was  cautious  in  revealing  himself  to  her.  The 
presence  of  others  was  a  restraint,  and  he  plainly 
saw  that  she  had  no  such  regard  for  him  as  he  felt 
for  her.  But  he  hoped  with  intense  fervor — yes,  he 
even  prayed  to  that  God  whom  he  had  so  long 
slighted — that  in  time  she  might  return  his  love. 
To-day  he  would  close  his  eyes  on  the  past  and 
future.  She,  the  sunshine  of  his  soul,  was  near,  and 
he  was  content  to  bask  in  her  nmiles. 

Annie  had  given  her  father  and  aunt  to  under 
stand  that  their  conspiracy  promised  to  result  in 
success,  and  they  treated  him  with  marked  but  deli 
cate  kindness.  The  day  passed  in  music,  reading, 
and  conversation,  and  it  was  to  Gregory  the  happiest 
he  remembered, — one  of  the  sweet  May  days  that, 
by  some  happy  blunder  of  nature,  occasionally  bless 
us  in  March, — and  he  made  the  very  most  of  it.  Its 
close  found  Annie  Walton  enthroned  in  his  heart. 

As  for  Annie,  he  perplexed  her  a  little,  but  she 
explained  everything  peculiar  in  his  words  and 


348  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

manner  on  the  ground  of  his  gratitude  only,  and 
the  glow  of  his  newly  awakened  moral  nature.  If 
she  had  been  an  experienced  belle,  she  might  have 
understood  his  symptoms  better,  but  she  was  one  of 
the  last  in  the  world  to  imagine  people  falling  in 
love  with  her.  Never  having  received  much  admi 
ration  from  strangers,  with  no  long  list  of  victims, 
and  believing  from  her  own  experience  that  love 
was  a  gradual  growth  resulting  from  long  knowledge 
and  intimacy  with  its  object,  she  could  not  dream 
that  this  critical  man,  who  had  seen  the  beauties  of 
two  continents,  would  in  a  few  days  be  carried 
away  by  her  plain  face.  Nor  was  he  by  her  face, 
but  by  herself. 

Men  of  mind  are  rarely  captivated  by  a  face 
merely,  however  beautiful,  but  by  what  it  represents, 
or  what  they  imagine  it  does.  Woe  be  to  the  beauty 
who  has  no  better  capital  than  her  face !  With  it 
she  can  allure  some  one  into  marrying  her ;  but  if 
he  marries  for  an  intelligent  companion,  he  is  likely 
to  prove  the  most  disappointed  and  indifferent  of 
husbands  on  discovering  the  fraud.  The  world  will 
never  get  over  its  old  belief  that  the  fair  face  is  the 
index  of  graces  slightly  veiled,  and  ready  to  be 
revealed  when  the  right  to  know  is  gained.  In 
nursery  rhymes,  fairy  tales,  and  the  average  novel, 
the  beautiful  heroine  is  also  lovely,  and  so  in  spite 
of  adverse  experience  the  world  will  ever  expect 
wisdom  and  truth  from  red  lips,  till  they  say  too 
much, — till  the  red  lips  themselves  prove  the  con 
trary.  Then  come  the  anger  and  disgust  which  men 


GREGOR  Y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  349 

ever  visit  upon  those  who  deceive  and  disappoint 
them.  Beauty  is  a  dainty  and  exquisite  vestibule  to 
a  temple ;  but  when  a  worshipper  is  beguiled  into 
entering,  only  to  find  a  stony,  misshapen  idol  and  a 
dingy  shrine,  this  does  not  conduce  to  future  devo 
tion. 

Annie's  face  would  not  arrest  passers-by,  and  so 
she  had  not  been  spoiled  by  too  much  homage, 
which  is  not  good  for  man  or  woman.  But  after 
passing  the  plain,  simple  portico  of  externals  into 
the  inner  temple  of  her  sweet  and  truthful  life,  the 
heart  once  hers  would  worship  with  undying  faith 
and  love. 

Gregory  had  come  to  interest  her  deeply,  not  only 
on  the  ground  of  his  need,  but  because  she  saw  in 
him  great  capabilities  for  good.  In  all  his  evil,  his 
downright  honesty  and  lack  of  conceit  inspired  a 
kind  of  respect.  She  also  saw  that  this  excessively 
fastidious  man  had  learned  to  admire  and  esteem 
her  greatly.  It  was  not  in  her  woman's  nature  to 
be  indifferent  to  this  fact.  She  felt  that  if  he  could 
be  redeemed  from  his  evil  he  might  become  a  con 
genial  and  valuable  friend  indeed,  and  if  she  could 
be  the  means  of  rescuing  the  son  of  her  father's 
friend,  it  would  ever  be  one  of  her  happiest  memo 
ries.  But  with  her  heart  already  occupied  by  a 
noble  ideal  of  Hunting,  the  possibility  of  anything 
more  than  friendship  never  entered  her  mind.  The 
very  fact  that  her  affections  were  so  engaged  made 
her  blind  to  manifestations  on  the  part  of  Gregory 
which  might  otherwise  have  awakened  suspicion. 


350  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Still  the  confidential  relations  growing  up  between 
them  made  her  wish  that  she  might  reveal  to  him 
her  virtual  engagement  to  Hunting;  and  she  would 
have  done  so,  had  he  not  resented  the  slightest 
allusion  in  that  direction.  It  now  seemed  probable 
that  Hunting  would  return  before  Gregory  took  his 
departure,  and  if  so,  she  felt  that  she  could  immedi 
ately  reconcile  them.  She  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  her  best  course  was  to  wait  till  she  could  bring 
them  together,  and  so  make  the  reconciliation  cer 
tain  by  her  own  presence  and  influence;  for  now,  in 
her  increasing  regard  for  Gregory,  she  was  deter 
mined  that  they  all  should  be  on  good  terms,  so 
that  in  the  city  home  to  which  she  looked  forward 
the  man  she  was  trying  to  lead  to  true  life  might  be 
a  frequent  and  welcome  visitor. 

But  it  is  a  difficult  thing  to  keep  such  friendships 
Platonic  in  their  nature  under  any  circumstances, 
and  in  view  of  Gregory's  feelings,  Annie's  pretty 
dreams  of  the  future  would  be  but  baseless  visions. 

Monday  evening  brought  one  of  those  genial 
domestic  experiences  that  make  home  more  satisfy 
ing  in  its  pleasures  than  all  the  excitements  of  the 
world.  Mr.  Walton  had  a  slight  cold,  and  Annie 
was  nursing  and  petting  him,  while  contributing  to 
the  general  enjoyment  by  reading  the  daily  paper 
and  singing  some  new  ballads  which  she  had  just 
obtained  from  New  York.  Her  father's  indisposition 
was  so  slight  that  it  merely  called  for  those  little 
attentions  which  are  pleasant  for  affection  to  bestow 
and  receive.  The  wind  howled  dismallv  without, 


GREGOR  Y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  35 1 

only  to  enhance  the  sense  of  peace  and  comfort 
within,  and  at  the  usual  hour  all  retired  to  rest, 
without  even  the  passing  thought  that  anything 
might  disturb  them  before  they  should  meet  again 
at  the  cheerful  breakfast-table. 

Some  time  during  the  night  Gregory  seemed  to 
hear  three  distinct  peals  of  thunder,  wrathful  and 
threatening,  and  then  a  voice  like  that  of  Annie 
Walton  calling  him  to  escape  a  great  danger.  But 
it  seemed  that  he  was  paralyzed,  and  strove  in  vain 
to  move  hand  or  foot.  Again  and  louder  pealed  the 
thunder,  and  more  urgent  came  the  call  of  the 
warning  voice.  By  a  desperate  effort  he  sprung 
with  a  bound  upon  the  floor,  and  then  realized  that 
what  seemed  thunder  in  the  exaggeration  of  his 
dream  was  loud  knocking  at  his  door.  Annie's 
voice  again  called,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  awake,  dress. 
There  is  a  fire.  There  may  be  danger." 

He  assured  her  that  he  would  be  out  in  a  few 
moments,  and  had  only  to  open  a  shutter  to  obtain 
plenty  of  light,  though  he  could  not  see  whence  it 
came.  In  five  minutes  he  hastened  down  stairs  and 
found  Mr.  Walton  just  issuing  from  his  room;  and 
all  went  out  on  the  front  piazza.  Gregory  then  saw 
that  a  large  factory  some  distance  up  the  stream 
was  burning,  and  that  the  fire  was  under  such  head 
way  that  nothing  could  save  the  building.  The 
wind  had  increased  during  the  night  and  fanned  the 
flames  into  terrific  fury.  The  building  was  old  and 
dry,  inviting  destruction  in  every  part. 

Fora  while  they  gazed  with  that  feanul  awe  which 


352  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

this  terrible  element,  when  no  longer  servant,  but 
master,  always  inspires.  Susie  had  not  been  well 
during  the  night,  and  in  waiting  on  her,  Annie  had 
discovered  the  disaster. 

A  warning  cough  from  Mr.  Walton  revealed  to 
Annie  the  danger  of  staying  out  in  the  raw  winds ; 
but  from  the  windows  everything  was  apparent,  and 
silently  they  watched  the  rapid  progress  of  the 
flames.  The  fire  had  caught  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
building,  and  was  advancing  up  from  floor  to  floor 
with  its  horrid  illumination  at  the  windows. 

"  Do  you  think  I  can  do  any  good  by  going  there  ?  " 
asked  Gregory. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Walton.  "The  whole  of 
the  New  ^ork  Fire  Department  could  not  save  it 
now  ;  and  from  the  sounds  I  hear,  there  will  soon  be 
throngs  of  people  there.  Indeed,  I  am  anxious 
about  my  own  place.  When  that  shingle  roof  begins 
to  burn  there  is  no  telling  how  far  the  wind  will 
carry  the  cinders." 

Annie  looked  at  her  father  in  quick  alarm,  then 
drew  Miss  Eulie  aside,  and  they  immediately  went 
up  stairs. 

With  a  more  painful  interest,  Gregory  now  watched 
the  scene.  The  tall  ladders  which  had  first  been 
raised  against  the  building  were  withdrawn.  They 
were  useless,  for  the  whole  interior  seemed  ablaze. 
Great  tongues  of  fire  began  leaping  from  the  win 
dows,  mocking  every  effort.  The  rapid  steps  of 
those  hastening  to  the  scene  resounded  along  the 
road,  and  the  startling  cry  of  "Fire !  Fire  ! "  was 


GREGOR  Y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  353 

heard  up  and  down  the  valley  till  all  merged  in  the 
shouts  and  cries  around  the  burning  building.  Min 
gling  with  the  deeper,  hoarser  tones  of  men  were  the 
shrill  voices  of  women,  showing  that  they  too  had 
been  drawn  to  witness  a  destruction  that  meant  to 
them  loss  of  bread.  The  foliage  near  was  red  as 
blood  in  the  dreadful  glare,  and  the  neighboring 
pines  tossed  their  tasselled  boughs  like  dark  plumes 
at  a  torchlight  funeral.  With  a  sudden  roar  a  pyra 
mid  of  flame  shot  up  through  the  roof,  and  was 
echoed  by  a  despairing  cry  from  those  whose  voca 
tion  now  indeed  was  gone.  A  moment  later  a 
fiery  storm  of  flakes  and  burning  shingles  filled  the 
sky. 

To  the  great  joy  of  our  friends  the  wind  was  from 
such  a  quarter  as  to  carry  this  destructive  tempest 
past  them  into  the  woodland  back  of  the  house, 
which  happily  had  been  rendered  damp  by  recent 
rains. 

But  a  cinder  frequently  sailed  by  unpleasantly 
near,  reminding  one  of  scattering  shots  in  a  battle. 
A  slight  change  of  wind  would  be  their  destruction, 
and  a  single  stray  firebrand  would  endanger  them. 

Just  as  they  began  to  breathe  somewhat  freely, 
hoping  that  danger  was  past,  a  sudden  side-eddy  of 
the  gale  scattered  a  shower  of  sparks  and  burning 
shingles  over  the  house  and  out-buildings.  Mr. 
Walton  immediately  rushed  forth,  and,  with  a  little 
whistle  which  he  usually  carried,  gave  a  shrill  su'm- 
mons  for  Jeff,  who  lived  in  a  cottage  near.  But  Jeff 
was  off  to  the  fire,  and  so  did  not  appear.  Gregory 


354  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  Annie  also  hastened  out,  and  the  former  ran  to 
the  barn  and  out-buildings  first,  as  from  their  nature 
they  were  most  inflammable.  To  his  and  Mr.  Wai- 
ton's  joy,  no  traces  of  fire  were  seen.  One  or  two 
smoking  brands  lay  in  the  door-yard,  where  they 
could  cause  no  injury.  But  a  cry  of  alarm  from 
Annie,  who  had  stayed  nearer  the  house,  brought 
Mr.  Walton  and  Gregory  to  her  side  instantly 
Pointing  to  the  roof  of  their  house,  she  said,  in  tones 
of  strong  excitement,  "See  there — oh,  see  there  !  " 

A  burning  piece  of  wood  had  caught  on  the  high 
est  part  near  the  ridge,  and  was  smoking  and  smoul 
dering  in  a  way  that,  with  the  strong  wind  fanning 
it,  would  surely  cause  destruction  if  it  were  not  dis 
lodged. 

"  Oh,  what  shall  we  do  ?  "  she  cried,  wringing  her 
hands.  "  Can  a  ladder  reach  it  ?  " 

"The  roof  is  too  steep,  even  if  it  did,"  said  Mr. 
Walton. 

"  Where  is  the  ladder?  "  cried  Gregory. 

"  By  the  carriage-house.     But  I  fear  it  is  useless." 

"  Will  you  help  me  bring  it,  sir  ?  " 

They  instantly  brought  the  longest  ladder  on  the 
place,  but  saw  that  though  it  might  touch  the  eaves, 
it  would  not  reach  the  ridge.  The  roof  was  so  steep 
that  one  could  not  keep  footing  on  it;  and  when 
they  took  time  to  look  and  consider,  both  gentlemen 
admitted  that  an  effort  in  that  direction  would  fail, 
and  probably  at  the  cost  of  life. 

"  Is  there  no  scuttle  by  which  to  get  out  on  the 
roof  ?  "  asked  Gregory. 


GREGOR  Y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  355 

**  No.  Quick,  Annie,  get  out  what  you  can,  for 
we  shall  soon  be  homeless." 

"  Wait,"  said  Gregory.  "  Is  there  no  way  to  reach 
thereof?" 

"  None  that  we  can  use.  A  light  and  daring 
climber  might  possibly  reach  the  ridge  by  the  light 
ning-rod,  after  leaving  the  ladder." 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  cried  Gregory,  eager  to  do  some- 
thing  to  make  impossible  even  the  thought  that  he 
was  cowardly ;  for  the  memory  of  his  course  in  the 
counterfeiter's  den  rankled  deeply. 

"  No,"  cried  both  Mr.  Walton  and  Annie,  laying 
their  hands  on  him.  "  Your  life  is  worth  more  than 
the  house." 

"  My  life  is  my  own,"  he  answered.  "  I  will  make 
an  effort  to  save  the  old  place.  Quick,  help  me. 
Here,  girls  "  (to  Zibbie  and  Hannah,  who  now  stood 
beside  them  in  dismay),  "  take  hold  of  that  end  of  the 
ladder  and  carry  it  out  there.  Now  push  it  up  while 
I  hold  its  foot.  There,  that's  it.  I  will  do  it.  You 
cannot  hinder,  but  only  help.  Miss  Walton,  get  me 
a  rope.  Hurry,  while  I  prepare  to  climb." 

With  the  help  of  the  stout  women,  whose  strength 
was  doubled  by  their  fears  and  excitement,  he  placed 
the  ladder  against  the  lightning-rod  and  siding  of 
the  house  just  under  the  ridge.  His  tones  were  de 
termined  and  authoritative. 

He  was  now  acting  as  Annie  would  if  she  were  a 
man,  and  she  admired  and  respected  him  as  never 
before.  In  two  or  three  moments  she  and  her  father 
returned  with  a  line,  but  again  expostulated. 


356  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  the  risk  is  too  great." 

"  You  can't  prevent  it,"  said  he,  firmly.  "  I  ab< 
solve  you  from  all  responsibility.  I  take  the  risk  in 
spite  of  you.  Make  haste — see  how  it's  burning, 
There,  that  will  do.  Stand  back." 

Even  as  he  spoke  he  was  climbing. 

"  Now  that's  generous,"  said  Annie  ;  "  but  if  you 
are  injured,  I  shall  never  forgive  myself." 

He  turned,  and  for  a  second  smiled  down  upon  her. 

The  strength  of  his  new-born  love  made  him  glad 
to  endanger  even  life  in  her  service,  and  the  thought, 
"  I  can  at  last  win  a  little  respect,  as  well  as  sympa 
thy,"  nerved  him  to  double  his  ordinary  powers. 
Like  most  country  boys,  he  had  been  a-bold,  active 
climber,  and  his  knowledge  and  former  skill  made 
the  attempted  feat  possible.  The  main  question  was 
whether  in  his  feeble  state  his  strength  would  hold 
out.  But  the  strong  excitement  of  the  moment 
would  serve  him  in  place  of  muscle.  He  had  thrown 
off  his  coat  and  boots,  and,  with  a  small  rope  fast 
ened  about  his  waist,  he  swiftly  ascended  to  the  top 
of  the  ladder.  But  there  were  three  or  four  feet 
that  he  must  overhand  up  the  lightning-rod  in  order 
to  reach  the  ridge.  It  was  large  and  twisted,  and 
gave  him  a  good  hold,  but  he  had  to  take  the  risk 
of  its  being  strong  enough  in  its  fastening  to  sustain 
his  weight.  Fortunately  it  was,  and  he  unhesitat 
ingly  commenced  the  perilous  effort.  He  made 
good  progress  till  he  was  within  a  foot  of  the  ridge. 
Then  his  strength  began  to  fail,  and  plainly  to  those 
below  he  wavered. 


GREGOR  Y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  357 

With  white  face,  clasped  hands,  and  lips  moving 
in  prayer,  Annie  watched  him.  Her  heart  almost 
stood  still  with  dread  ;  and  when  toward  the  last  he 
slowly  and  still  more  slowly  overhanded  upward, 
plainly  indicating  that  his  strength  was  ebbing,  she 
cried,  in  an  agony  of  fear,  "  Come  back,  oh  come 
back  \  What  is  all  here  to  your  life  ?  " 

A  second  before  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  must 
fail,  that  he  might  suddenly  fall  at  her  feet  a  crushed 
and  lifeless  mass;  but  her  voice  revived  him,  and  the 
passionate  thought  came  with  inspiring  power,  "  I 
can  do  more  to  win  her  love  now  than  by  years  of 
effort ; "  and  he  made  a  desperate  struggle,  gained 
the  ridge,  and  crawled  out  upon  it,  panting  for  a 
moment,  and  powerless  to  do  more  than  cling  for 
support. 

The  burning  cinder  was  now  but  little  in  advance 
of  him,  and  he  saw  that  there  was  not  a  second  to 
lose.  It  had  charred  and  blackened  the  roof  where 
it  had  caught,  and,  fanned  by  the  wind,  was  a  live, 
glowing  coal.  The  shingles  under  it  were  smoking — 
yes,  smouldering.  Had  it  not  been  for  their  damp 
ness  and  mossy  age,  they  would  have  been  blazing. 
In  a  few  moments  nothing  could  have  saved  the 
house. 

As  soon  as  he  got  his  breath,  he  crept  along  the 
ridge  within  reach  of  the  fiery  flake.  There  seemed 
no  place  where  he  could  lay  hold  of  it  without  burn 
ing  himself.  It  would  not  do  to  simply  detach  it,  as 
it  might  catch  farther  down  the  steep  roof  where  it 
could  not  be  reached.  Above  all,  there  was  not  a 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

moment  to  spare.  He  did  not  hesitate^  but  with 
sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  use  his  left  instead  of 
his  right  hand,  he  seized  the  fatal  brand  and  hurled 
it,  a  fiery  meteor,  clear  of  the  house.  It  hurt  him 
cruelly,  and  for  a  moment  he  felt  sick  and  faint ;  but 
a  round  of  applause  from  those  below  (for  now  Miss 
Eulie  and  the  children  were  out,  looking  tremblingly 
on),  and  Annie's  cry  of  joy  and  encouragement, 
again  gave  him  strength. 

But  as  he  looked  closely  at  the  spot  where  the 
cinder  had  lain,  his  fears  were  realized.  It  had  ig 
nited  the  roof.  A  little  water  would  extinguish  it 
now,  but  in  a  few  moments,  under  the  wild  wind  that 
was  blowing,  all  would  be  ablaze. 

He  crawled  to  the  end  of  the  ridge  and  shouted, 
"Tie  a  light  pail  of  water  to  the  cord — not  much  at 
a  time,  or  I  can't  draw  it  up." 

Annie  darted  to  the  house  for  a  lighter  pail  than 
Hannah  had  brought,  and  to  Gregory's  joy  he  found 
that  he  had  strength  enough  to  lift  it,  though  with  his 
burned  hand  it  was  agony  to  do  so.  But  with  the 
now  good  prospect  of  finishing  his  work  success 
fully,  his  spirits  rose.  He  grew  more  familiar  and 
confident  in  his  dangerous  position.  He  did  not 
look  down  from  his  giddy  height,  and  permitted 
himself  to  think  of  nothing  but  his  task.  Indeed,  in 
his  strong  excitement,  he  felt  that  it  would  not  be 
a  bitter  thing  to  die  thus  serving  the  woman  he 
loved  ;  and  in  his  false  philosophy  he  hoped  this  brave 
act  might  atone  for  the  wrong  of  the  past. 

It  is  the  nature  of  noble,  generous  deeds  to  exalt 


GREGOR  Y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  35 9 

a  man's  soul  so  that  he  can  fearlessly  face  death, 
when  in  calm  moments  he  would  shrink  back  ap 
palled.  In  the  excitement  of  the  hour,  and  under 
the  inspiration  of  his  strong  human  love,  Gregory 
was  not  afraid  to  die,  though  life  seemed,  with  its 
new  possibilities,  sweeter  than  ever  before.  He  knew 
that  his  strength  was  failing  fast,  that  reaction 
would  soon  set  in,  and  that  he  would  be  helpless,  and 
his  great  hope  was  that  he  could  save  the  house 
first. 

He  determined  therefore  not  to  waste  a  drop  of 
water,  and  to  make  this  one  pail  answer  if  possible. 
He  therefore  poured  it  slowly  out,  and  let  it  run 
over  the  burning  part.  The  continued  hissing  and 
smoke  proved  that  the  fire  had  penetrated  deeper 
than  he  thought.  The  last  drop  was  gone,  and  still 
the  place  smoked.  A  little  more  was  absolutely 
necessary. 

"  Will  my  strength  hold  out  ?  "  he  asked  himself, 
in  almost  an  agony  of  doubt. 

Crawling  back  to  the  end  of  the  ridge,  he  once 
more  lowered  the  pail. 

"  Fill  it  again,"  he  cried. 

"Can  you  stand  it  ?"  Mr.  Walton  asked. 

"  I  must,  or  all  is  useless,"  was  his  answer. 

Again,  but  more  slowly  and  painfully,  he  pulled 
the  water  up. 

Annie  wrung  her  hands  in  anguish  as  she  saw  in 
the  red  glare  of  the  still  burning  factory  how  pale 
and  exhausted  he  was. 

But  he  once  more  managed  to  reach  the  point 


360  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

above  the  still  smouldering  spot,  and  caused  the 
water  to  trickle  down  upon  it.  By  the  time  he  had 
half  emptied  the  pail  the  smoke  ceased. 

After  a  moment  it  again  faintly  exuded,  but  an 
other  little  stream  of  water  quenched  the  fire  utterly. 
But  for  five  minutes  he  watched  the  place  to  make 
sure  that  there  was  not  a  lingering  spark,  and  then 
let  the  rest  of  the  water  flow  over  the  pla~e  to  sat 
urate  it  completely. 

He  was  now  certain  that  the  house  was  saved.  But 
he  was  satisfied  from  his  sensations  that  he  had  but 
little  time  in  which  to  save  himself.  Reaction  was 
fast  setting  in. 

He  untied  the  rope  from  his  waist,  and  let  pail 
and  all  roll  clattering  down  the  roof.  This 
noise  was  echoed  by  a  cry  of  alarm  from  those  below, 
who  feared  for  a  moment  that  he  was  falling.  They 
all  had  the  sickening  dread  which  is  felt  when  we 
look  at  one  in  great  peril,  and  yet  can  do  nothing 
to  help. 

At  first  Gregory  thought  that  he  would  lie  down 
upon  the  ridge  and  cling  to  it,  thus  gaining  strength 
by  a  little  rest.  But  he  soon  found  that  this  would 
not  answer.  His  overtaxed  frame  was  becoming 
nerveless,  and  his  only  hope  was  to  escape  at  once. 
In  trembling  weakness  he  crawled  back  to  the  edge 
and  looked  over.  Annie  stepped  forward  to  the 
foot  of  the  ladder  and  extended  her  hands  as  if  to 
catch  him. 

"  Stand  back/'  he  cried ;  "  if  I  fall,  I  shall  kill 
you." 


GREGOR  Y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  36 1 

"I  will  not  stand  back,"  she  answered.  "You 
shall  not  take  all  the  risk." 

But  her  father,  who  still  kept  his  presence  of  mind 
in  the  terrible  excitement  of  the  moment,  forced  her 
away,  and  saved  her  from  the  danger  of  this 
useless  sacrifice.  As  soon  as  she  could  do  nothing, 
her  fortitude  vanished,  and  she  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands  and  wept  bitterly. 

The  chief  point  of  difficulty  in  Gregory's  weak 
state  was  to  get  off  the  ridge  upon  the  lightning-rod 
without  losing  his  hold  and  falling  at  once.  If  he 
could  turn  the  edge  and  begin  to  descend  in  safety, 
his  strength  might  hold  out  till  he  reached  the  ladder 
and  so  the  ground.  But  he  realized  the  moment  of 
supreme  peril,  and  hesitated. 

Then,  with  something  like  a  prayer*  to  God  and 
with  a  wistful  look  at  Annie,  he  resolutely  swung 
himself  over.  His  hands  held  the  weight  of  his  body, 
and  he  commenced  the  descent.  Annie's  glad  cry 
once  more  encouraged  him.  He  gained  the  ladder 
and  descended  till  not  far  from  the  ground. 

Suddenly  everything  turned  black  before  his  eyes, 
and  he  fell. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
CHANGES  IN  GREGORY. 

WHEN  Gregory  became  conscious,  he  was  lying 
on  the  ground,  with  his  head  in  Miss  Eulie's 
lap,  and  Annie  was  bending  over  him  with  a  small 
flask.  She  again  gave  him  a  teaspoonful  of  brandy, 
and  after  a  moment  he  lifted  himself  up,  and,  passing 
his  hand  across  his  brow,  looked  around. 

"You  are  not  hurt.  Oh,  please  say  you  are  not 
hurt !  "  she  exclaimed,  taking  his  hand. 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment,  and  then  it  all  came 
back  to  him,  and  he  smiled  and  said,  "  Not  much,  I 
think ;  and  if  I  am  it  does  not  signify.  You've  helped 
me  on  my  feet  once  or  twice  before.  Now  see  if 
you  can  again  ;  "  and  he  attempted  to  rise. 

As  Daddy  Tuggar  had  intimated,  there  was  plenty 
of  muscle  in  Annie's  round  arms,  and  she  almost 
lifted  him  up,  but  he  stood  unsteadily.  Mr.  Walton 
gave  him  his  arm,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  was  on 
the  sofa  in  the  sitting-room,  where  a  fire  was  soon 
kindled.  Zibbie  was  told  to  make  coffee,  and  to 
provide  something  more  substantial. 

They  were  all  profuse  in  expressions  of  gratitude, 
in  praises  of  his  heroism,  but  he  waived  the  whole 
matter  off  by  saying,  "  Think  of  me  as  well  as  you 


CHANGES  IN  GREGORY.  363 

can,  for  Heaven  knows  I  have  need  to  retrieve  my 
character.  But  please  do  not  speak  as  if  I  had  done 
more  than  I  ought.  For  a  young  man  to  stand  idly 
by,  and  see  the  home  of  his  childhood,  the  place 
where  he  had  received  unbounded  hospitality,  de 
stroyed,  would  be  simply  base.  If  I  had  not  been 
reduced  by  months  of  ill  health,  the  thing  would 
not  have  been  difficult  at  all.  But  you,  Miss  Wal 
ton,  displayed  the  real  heroism  in  the  case,  when  you 
stood  beneath  with  your  arms  out  to  catch  me.  I 
took  a  risk,  but  you  took  the  certainty  of  destruction 
if  I  had  fallen.  Still,"  he  added,  with  a  humorous 
look  as  if  in  jest,  though  he  was  only  too  sincere, 
"  the  prospect  was  so  inviting  that  I  should  have 
liked  to  fall  a  little  way." 

"And  so  you  did,"  cried  innocent  Johnny,  eagerly. 
"You  fell  ever  so  far,  and  Aunt  Annie  caught 
you." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Gregory,  rising.  "  Is  this 
true  ?  And  are  you  not  hurt?  " 

"  That's  the  way  with  children,"  said  Annie,  with 
heightened  color  and  a  reproachful  look  at  the  boy, 
who  in  the  excitement  of  the  hour  was  permitted  to 
stay  up  for  an  hour  or  more  ;  "  they  let  everything 
all  out.  No,  I'm  not  hurt  a  bit.  You  didn't  fall 
very  far.  I'm  so  thankful  that  your  strength  did  not 
give  out  till  you  almost  reached  the  ground.  O 
dear!  I  shudder  to  think  what  might  have  happened. 
Do  you  know  that  I  thought,  with  a  thrill  of  super 
stitious  dread,  of  your  chestnut-burr  omen,  when 
you  stained  my  hand  with  your  blood.  If  you  had 


364  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

fallen — if — "  and  she  put  her  hand  over  her  eyes  to 
hide  the  dreadful  vision  her  imagination  presented. 
If  anything  had  happened,"  she  continued,  "  my 
hands  would  have  been  stained,  in  that  they  had  not 
held  you  back." 

"  What  a  tender,  innocent  conscience  you  have !  " 
he  replied,  looking  fondly  at  her.  "  I  confess  I'd 
rather  be  here  listening  to  you  than  somewhere 
else." 

She  gave  him  a  troubled,  startled  look.  To  her 
that  "  somewhere  else  "  had  a  sad  and  terrible  mean 
ing.  She  sat  near  him,  and  could  not  help  saying  in 
a  low,  earnest  tone,  "  How  could  you,  how  could  you 
take  such  a  risk  without — "  She  did  not  finish  the 
sentence,  which  was  plain  enough  in  its  meaning, 
however. 

On  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  Gregory  was  abo\it 
to  reply  indiscreetly, — in  a  way  that  would  have  re 
vealed  more  of  his  feelings  toward  her  then  he  knew 
would  be  wise  at  that  time.  But  just  then  Hannah 
came  in  with  the  lunch,  and  the  attention  of  the 
others,  who  had  been  talking  eagerly  on  the  other 
side  of  the  room,  was  directed  toward  them.  He 
checked  some  rash  words  as  they  rose  to  his  lips 
and  Annie,  suspecting  nothing  of  the  wealth  of  love 
that  he  was  already  lavishing  upon  her,  rose  with 
alacrity,  glad  to  serve  one  who  had  just  served  her  so 
well.  The  generous  coffee  and  the  dainty  lunch, 
combined  with  feelings  to  which  he  had  long  been  a 
stranger,  revived  Gregory  greatly,  and  he  sprung  up 
and  walked  the  room,  declaring  that  with  the  excep- 


CHANGES  IN  GREGORY.  365 

tion  of  his  burned  hand,  which  had  been  carefully 
dressed,  he  felt  better  than  he  had  for  a  long  time. 

"I'm  so  thankful!"  said  Annie,  with  glistening 
eyes. 

"We  all  have  cause  for  thankfulness,"  said  Mr, 
Walton,  with  fervor.  "Our  kind  Father  in  heaven 
has  dealt  with  us  all  in  tender  mercy.  Home,  and 
more  precious  life,  have  been  spared.  Before  we 
again  seek  a  little  rest,  let  us  remember  all  His  good 
ness  ; "  and  he  led  them  in  a  simple,  fervent  prayer, 
the  effect  of  which  was  heightened  by  Mr.  Walton 
saying,  after  he  rose  from  his  knees,  "Annie,  we  must 
see  that  none  of  our  poor  neighbors  lack  for  any 
thing,  now  that  their  employment  has  so  suddenly 
been  taken  away. " 

That  is  acceptable  devotion  to  God  which  leads  to 
practical,  active  charity  toward  men,  and  the  most 
unbelieving  are  won  by  such  a  religion. 

Annie  noticed  with  some  anxiety  that  her  father's 
voice  was  very  hoarse,  and  that  he  put  his  hand  upon 
his  chest  several  times,  and  she  expressed  the  fear 
that  the  exposure  would  greatly  add  to  his  cold.  He 
treated  the  matter  lightly,  and  would  do  nothing 
more  that  evening  than  take  some  simple  remedies. 

When  Gregory  bade  them  good-night,  Annie  fol 
lowed  him  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  giving  his 
hand  one  of  her  warm  grasps,  said,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  I 
can't  help  feeling  that  your  mother  knows  what  you 
have  done  to-night." 

Tears  started  to  his  eyes.  He  did  not  trust  him 
self  to  reply,  but,  with  a  strong  answering  pressure, 


366  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

hastened  to  his  room,  happier  than  he  had  been  in 
all  his  past. 

It  was  late  the  next  morning  when  they  assembled 
at  the  breakfast-table,  and  they  noted  with  pain  that 
Mr.  Walton  did  not  appear  at  all  well,  though  he 
made  a  great  effort  to  keep  up.  He  was  very  hoarse, 
and  complained  of  a  tightness  in  his  chest. 

"  Now,  father,"  said  Annie,  "  you  must  stay  in  the 
house,  and  let  me  nurse  you." 

"  I  am  very  willing  to  submit,"  he  replied,  "  and 
hope  I  shall  need  no  other  physician."  But  he  was 
feverish  all  day.  His  indisposition  did  not  yield  to 
ordinary  remedies.  Still,  beyond  a  little  natural  so 
licitude,  no  anxiety  was  felt. 

Gregory  was  a  different  man.  Even  his  sincere 
human  love  for  so  worthy  an  object  had  lifted  him 
out  of  the  miserable  depths  into  which  he  had  been 
sinking.  It  had  filled  his  heart  with  pure  longings, 
and  made  him  capable  of  noble  deeds. 

As  a  general  thing  a  woman  inspires  love  in  ac 
cordance  with  her  own  character.  Of  course  we 
recognize  the  fact  that  there  are  men  with  natures  so 
coarse  that  they  are  little  better  than  animals.  These 
men  may  have  a  passing  passion  for  any  pretty 
woman  ;  but  the  holy  word  Love  should  not  be  used 
in  such  connection.  But  of  men — of  those  possess 
ing  true  manhood,  even  in  humblest  station — the 
above  assertion  I  think  will  be  found  true.  The 
woman  who  gains  the  boundless  power  which  the 
undivided  homage  of  an  honest  heart  confers  will 
develop  in  it,  and  quicken  into  life,  traits  and  feel- 


CHANGES  IN  GREGOR  Y.  367 

ings  corresponding  to  her  own.  If  the  great  men  of 
the  world  have  generally  had  good  mothers,  so  as  a 
parallel  fact  will  it  be  found  that  the  strong,  useful, 
successful  men — men  who  sustain  themselves,  and 
more  than  fulfil  the  promise  of  their  youth — have 
been  supplemented  and  continually  inspired  to  better 
things  by  the  ennobling  companionship  of  true 
women. 

Good  breeding,  the  ordinary  restraints  of  self- 
respect,  and  fear  of  the  world's  adverse  opinion, 
greatly  reduce  the  outward  diversities  of  society. 
Well-bred  men  and  women  act  and  appear  very  much 
alike  in  the  public  eye.  But  there  is  an  inner  life,  a 
real  character,  upon  which  happiness  here  and 
heaven  hereafter  depend,  which  results  largely  from 
that  tie  and  intimacy  which  is  closest  of  all.  A  shal 
low,  frivolous  girl,  having  faith  in  little  else  than 
her  pretty  face  and  the  dress-maker's  art,  may  un 
fortunately  inspire  a  good,  talented  man,  who  im 
agines  her  to  possess  all  that  the  poets  have  portrayed 
in  woman,  with  a  true  and  strong  affection,  but  she 
will  disappoint  and  dwarf  him,  and  be  a  millstone 
about  his  neck.  She  will  cease  to  be  his  companion. 
She  may  be  thankful  if,  in  his  heart,  he  does  not 
learn  to  despise  her,  though  a  man  can  scarcely  do 
this  and  be  guiltless  toward  the  mother  of  his  chil 
dren. 

What  must  be  the  daily  influence  on  a  man  who 
sees  in  his  closest  friend,  to  whom  he  is  joined  for 
life,  a  passion  for  the  public  gaze,  a  boundless  faith 
in  externals,  a  complete  devotion  to  the  artificial 


368  OPENING  A  CHES7WUT  BURR. 

enhancing  of  ordinary  and  vanishing  charms,  com*, 
bined  with  a  contemptuous  neglect  of  the  graces  of 
mind  and  heart  ?  These  alone  can  keep  the  love 
which  outward  appearance  in  part  may  have  wot 
at  first.  Mere  dress  and  beauty  are  very  well  to 
skirmish  with  during  the  first  approaches ;  but  if  a 
woman  wishes  to  hold  the  conquered  province  of  a 
man's  heart,  and  receive  from  it  rich  revenues  of 
love  and  honor,  she  must  possess  some  queenly 
traits  akin  to  divine  royalty,  otherwise  she  only 
overruns  the  heart  she  might  have  ruled,  and  leaves 
it  a  blighted  waste. 

As  we  have  seen,  Annie's  actual  character  rebuked 
and  humiliated  the  evil-minded  Gregory  from  the 
first.  He  could  not  rest  in  her  presence.  To  relieve 
himself  from  self-condemnation,  he  must  prove  her 
goodness  a  sham  or  an  accident, — mere  chance 
exemption  from  temptation.  Her  safety  and  happy 
influence  did  not  depend  upon  good  resolutions, 
wise  policy,  and  careful  instruction,  but  upon  her 
real  possession  of  a  character  which  had  been  formed 
long  before,  and  which  met  and  foiled  him  at  every 
point.  Lacking  this,  though  a  wrell-meaning,  good 
girl  in  the  main,  she  would  have  been  a  plaything  in 
the  hands  of  such  a  man.  Her  absolute  truth  and 
crystal  purity  of  principle  incased  her  in  heaven's 
armor,  and  neither  he  nor  any  other  evil-disposed 
person  could  harm  her.  She  would  not  listen  to  the 
first  insidious  suggestion  of  the  tempter.  Thus  the 
man  who  expected  to  go  away  despising  now 
honored,  reverenced,  loved  her,  and  through  her 


CHANGES  IN  GREGORY.  369 

strong  but  gentle  ministry  had  turned  his  back  on 
evil,  and  was  struggling  to  escape  its  degrading 
bondage. 

Gregory  was  right  in  thinking  that  such  a  woman 
as  Annie  could  help  him  to  an  extent  hard  to  esti 
mate,  but  fatally  wrong  in  looking  to  her  alone.  The 
kind  Father  who  regards  the  well-being  of  His  chil 
dren  for  eternity  rather  than  for  the  moments  of 
time,  must  effectually  cure  him  of  this  error. 

But  those  two  days  were  memorable  ones  to  him. 
The  cold  and  stormy  weather  shut  them  all  in  the 
house,  and  that  meant  to  him  Annie's  society.  He 
was  seldom  alone  with  her;  he  noted  with  pain  that 
her  manner  was  too  frank  and  kindly,  too  free  from 
all  consciousness,  to  indicate  anything  more  than 
the  friendship  she  had  promised  ;  but,  not  knowing 
how  her  heart  was  preoccupied,  he  hoped  that  the 
awakening  of  deeper  feelin  was  only  a  question  of 
time.  His  present  peace  and  rest  were  so  blessed, 
her  presence  was  so  satisfyi  g,  and  rus  progress  in 
her  favor  so  apparent  as  he  revealed  his  better 
nature,  that  he  was  con.ent  to  call  his  love 
friendship  until  he  saw  her  friendship  turning  into 
love. 

Had  not  Annie  expected  Hunting  every  day  she 
would  have  told  Gregory  all  about  her  relation  with 
him,  but  now  she  determined  that  she  would  bring 
them  together  under  the  same  roof,  and  not  let 
them  separate  till  she  had  banished  every  trace  of 
their  difficulty.  A  partial  reconciliation  might  result 
in  future  coolness  and  estrangement.  This  she 


370  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

would  regard  as  a  misfortune,  even  if  it  had  no 
unfavorable  influence  on  Gregory,  for  he  now  proved 
himself  the  best  of  company.  Indeed,  they  seemed 
to  have  a  remarkable  gift  for  entertaining  eacl 
other. 

While  Wednesday  did  not  find  Mr.  Waltcn 
seriously  ill  to  all  appearance,  he  was  still  far  from 
being  well.  He  employed  himself  with  his  papers 
and  seemed  to  enjoy  Gregory's  conversarion 
greatly. 

"  He  now  grows  very  like  his  father,  and  reminds 
me  constantly  of  him,"  he  said  more  than  cnce  to 
Annie. 

Mr.  Walton's  indisposition  was  evidently  not 
trivial.  There  was  a  soreness  about  the  lungs  that 
made  it  painful  for  him  to  talk  much,  and  he  had 
a  severe,  racking  cough.  They  were  all  solicitude  in 
his  behalf.  The  family  physician  had  been  called,  and 
it  was  hoped  that  a  few  days  of  care  would  remove 
this  cold. 

As  he  sat  in  his  comfortable  arm-chair  by  the  fire 
he  would  smilingly  say  he  was  having  such  a  good 
time  and  so  much  petting  that  he  did  not  intend  to 
get  well  very  soon. 

Though  Gregory's  burn  was  painful,  and  both 
hands  were  bruised  and  cut  from  climbing,  he  did 
not  regret  the  suffering,  since  it  also  secured  from 
Annie  some  of  the  attention  she  would  otherwise 
have  given  her  father. 

Wednesday  afternoon  was  pleasant,  and  Gregory 
went  out  for  a  walk.  He  did  not  return  till  rather 


CHANGES  IN  GREGORY.  371 

late,  and,  coming  down  to  supper,  found  by  his  plate 
a  letter  which  clouded  his  face  instantly. 

Annie  was  radiant,  for  the  same  mail  had  brought 
her  one  from  Hunting,  stating  that  he  might  be  ex 
pected  any  day  now.  As  she  saw  Gregory's  face 
darken,  she  said,  "  I  fear  your  letter  has  brought 
you  unpleasant  news." 

"  It  has,"  he  replied.  "  Mr.  Burnett,  the  senior 
partner,  is  quite  ill,  and  it  is  necessary  that  I  return 
immediately." 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  she  exclaimed,  with  such  hearty 
emphasis  that  he  looked  at  her  earnestly  and  said, 
"Are  you  really?" 

"  You  shv)uldn't  ask  such  a  question,"  she  an* 
swered,  reproachfully. 

"  Why,  Miss  Walton,  I've  made  a  very  long 
visit." 

"So  much  has  happened  that  it  does  seem  a  long 
time  since  you  came.  But  I  wish  it  were  to  be 
longer.  We  shall  miss  /ou  exceedingly.  Besides," 
she  added,  with  rising  color,  "  I  have  a  special 
reason  for  wishing  you  to  stay  a  little  longer." 

His  color  rose  instantly  also.  She  puzzled  him, 
while  he  perplexed  her. 

"I  hope  Mr.  Gregory's  visit  has  taught  him," 
said  Mr.  Walton,  kindly,  "  that  he  has  not  lost  his 
former  home  through  our  residence  here,  and  that 
he  can  run  up  to  the  old  place  whenever  he  finds 
opportunity." 

"  I  can  say  sincerely,"  he  responded,  "  that  I  have 
enjoyed  the  perfection  of  hospitality ;  "  adding,  in  a 


372  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

low  tone  and  with  a  quick,  remorseful  look  at 
Annie,  "  though  little  deserving  it." 

"You  have  richly  repaid  us,"  said  Mr.  Walton, 
heartily.  "  It  would  have  been  very  hard  for  me  at 
my  years  to  have  to  seek  a  new  home.  I  have 
become  wedded  to  this  old  place  with  my  feelings 
anJ  fancies,  and  the  aged,  you  know,  dislike  change. 
I  wish  to  make  only  one  more,  then  rest  will  be 
complete." 

"  Now,  father,"  said  Annie,  with  glistening  eyes, 
"  you  must  not  talk  in  that  way.  You  know  well 
that  we  cannot  spare  you  even  to  go  to  heaven." 

"  Well,  my  child,"  answered  he,  fondly.  "  I  an? 
content  to  leave  that  in  our  best  Friend's  hand&. 
But  I  cannot  say,"  he  added,  with  a  touch  of  humor, 
"that  it's  a  heavy  cross  to  stay  here  with  you." 

"Would  that  such  a  cross  were  imposed  upon 
me!"  echoed  Gregory,  with  sudden  devoutness. 
"  Miss  Walton,  did  not  my  business  imperatively 
demand  my  presence,  I  would  break  anything  save 
my  neck,  in  order  to  be  an  invalid  on  your  hands." 

"Come,"  cried  Annie,  half-vexed;  "a  truce  to 
this  style  of  remark.  I  think  it's  verging  toward 
the  sentimental,  and  I'm  painfully  matter-of-fact. 
Father,  you  must  not  think  of  going  to  heaven  yet, 
and  1  don't  like  to  hear  you  talk  about  it.  Mr. 
Gregory  can  break  his  little  finger,  if  he  likes,  so  we 
may  keep  him  longer.  But  do  let  us  all  be  sensible, 
and  not  think  of  anything  sad  till  it  comes.  Why 
should  we  ?  Mr.  Gregory  surely  can  find  time  to 
run  up  and  see  us,  if  he  wishes,  and  I  think  he  will." 


CffA  NGES  IN  GREGOR  Y.  373 

Before  he  could  reply,  an  anxious  remark  from 
little  Susie  enabled  them  to  leave  the  table  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  those  laughs  that  banish  all  embar 
rassment. 

"But  we'll  be  burned  up   if  Mr.  Gregory  goes 

away." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND   LOVE. 

IT'NOWING  that  it  was  to  be  Gregory's  last  day 
IV  with  them,  Annie  determined  it  should  be  full 
of  pleasant  memories.  She  sung  with  him,  and  did 
anything  he  asked.  Her  heart  overflowed  toward 
him  in  a  genial  and  almost  sisterly  regard,  but  his 
most  careful  analysis  could  find  no  trace  even  of  the 
inception  of  warmer  feelings.  She  evidently  had  a 
strong  and  growing  liking  for  him,  but  nothing 
more,  and  she  clearly  felt  the  greatest  interest  in  his 
effort  to  become  a  man  of  Christian  principles.  This 
fact  gave  him  his  main  hope.  Her  passion  to  save 
seemed  so  strong  that  he  trusted  she  might  be 
approached  even  thus  early  upon  that  side. 

He  felt  that  he  must  speak, — must  get  some 
definite  hope  for  the  future  before  he  went  away. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  fairly  bring  his  great 
need  as  a  motive  to  bear  upon  her.  Her  whole 
course  encouraged  him  to  do  this,  for  she  had 
responded  to  every  such  appeal.  Still  with  fear  and 
trembling  he  admitted  that  he  was  about  to  ask  for 
more  now  than  ever  before. 

But  he  felt  that  he  must  speak.  He  had  no  hope 
that  he  could  ever  be  more  than  his  wretched  self 


PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE.  375 

without  her.  He  would  ask  nothing  definite, — only 
encouragement  that  if  he  could  make  himself 
worthy  of  her  she  would  give  him  a  chance  to  win 
her  love.  In  her  almost  sisterly  frankness  it  seemed 
that  the  idea  of  loving  him  had  never  occurred  to 
her,  and  would  not  after  he  had  gone.  The  thought 
of  leaving  her  heart  all  disengaged,  for  some  other 
to  come  and  make  a  stronger  impression,  was  tor 
ture.  He  never  could  be  satisfied  with  the  closest 
friendship,  therefore  he  must  plainly  seek  a  dearer 
tie,  even  though  for  a  time  their  frank,  pleasant 
relations  should  be  disturbed.  He  resolved  to  take 
no  denial,  but  to  give  fair  warning,  before  it  was  too 
late,  that  he  was  laying  siege  to  her  heart.  He 
dreaded  that  attitude  of  mind  upon  her  part  which 
enables  a  woman  to  say  to  some  men,  "  I  could  be 
your  sister,  but  never  your  wife." 

So  he  said  before  they  separated  for  the  night, 
"  Miss  Walton,  I'm  going  to  snatch  a  few  hours 
from  the  hurry  and  grind  of  business,  and  shall  not 
return  to  town  till  to-morrow  afternoon.  Won't 
you  take  one  more  ramble  with  me  in  the  morn- 
ing?" 

"  With  pleasure,"  she  replied,  promptly.  "  I  will 
devote  myself  to  you  to-morrow,  and  leave  you 
without  excuse  for  not  coming  again." 

He  flushed  with  pleasure  at  her  reply,  but  said, 
quickly,  "  By  the  way,  that  reminds  me.  Won't 
you  tell  me  what  your  *  special  reason  '  was  for  wish 
ing  me  to  stay  a  little  longer  ?  " 

It  was  her  turn  to  blush  now,  which  she  did  in  a 


376  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

way  that  puzzled  him.     She  answered,  hesitatingly 
"Well,  I  think  I'll  tell  you  to-morrow." 

"  Good-night,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  feelingly  retain 
ing  Gregory's  hand  when  he  came  to  his  chair. 
"We  are  coming  to  treat  you  almost  as  one  of  the 
family.  Indeed,  it  seems  hard  to  treat  you  in  any 
other  way  now,  especially  in  your  old  home,  now 
doubly  yours  since  you  have  saved  it  from  destruc 
tion.  Every  day  you  remind  me  more  of  my  dear 
old  friend.  For  some  reason  he  has  seemed  very 
near  me  of  late.  If  it  should  be  my  lot  to  see  your 
sainted  parents  before  you  do,  as  it  probably  will,  I 
believe  it  will  be  in  my  power  to  add  even  to  their 
heavenly  joys  by  telling  them  of  your  present  pros 
pects.  Good-night,  and  may  the  blessing  of  your 
father's  and  mother's  God  rest  upon  you." 

Tears  sprung  into  the  young  man's  eyes,  and  with 
a  strong  responsive  pressure  of  Mr.  Walton's  hand, 
he  hastened  to  his  room,  to  hide  what  was  not  weak 
ness. 

That  was  the  last  time  he  saw  his  father's 
friend. 

Annie's  eyes  glistened  as  she  looked  after  him,  and 
throwing  her  arms  around  her  father's  neck,  she  whis 
pered,  "  God  did  send  him  here  I  now  truly  believe, 
We  have  not  conspired  and  prayed  in  vain." 

Mr.  Walton  fondly  stroked  his  daughter's  brown 
hair,  and  said,  "  You  are  right,  Annie ;  he  will  be  a 
gem  in  your  crown  of  rejoicing.  You  have  acted 
very  wisely,  very  womanly,  as  your  mother  would,, 
in  this  matter.  He  was  a  bad  man  when  he  first 


PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE.  377 

came  here,  and  if  I  had  not  known  you  so  well,  I 
should  not  have  trusted  you  with  him  as  I  have. 
Be  as  faithful  through  life,  and  you  may  lead  many 
more  out  of  darkness." 

"  Dear  father,"  said  Annie,  tenderly,  "  this  whole 
day,  with  Charles's  good  letter,  and  crowned  with 
these  precious  words  from  you,  seems  like  a  bene 
diction.  May  we  have  many  more  such." 

"  May  God's  will  be  done,"  said  the  riper  Christian, 
with  eyes  turned  homeward. 

Thus  in  hope,  peace,  and  gladness  the  day  ended 
for  all. 

"Ye  know  not  what  shall  be  on  the  roorrow." 

To  Gregory's  unfeigned  sorrow  Mr.  Walton  was 
not  well  enough  to  appear  at  the  breakfast-table  the 
following  morning.  Annie  was  flitting  in  and  out 
with  a  grave  and  troubled  face.  But  by  ten  o'clock 
he  seemed  better  and  fell  asleep.  Leaving  Miss 
Eulie  watching  beside  him,  she  came  and  said, 
"  Now,  Mr.  Gregory,  I  can  keep  my  promise  in  part, 
and  take  a  short  walk  with  you.  You  can  well  under 
stand  why  I  cannot  be  away  long." 

"  Please  do  not  feel  that  you  must  go,"  he  said. 
<;  However  great  the  disappointment,  I  could  not  ask 
you  to  leave  your  father  if  he  needs  you." 

"  You  may  rest  assured  that  nothing  would  tempt 
me  from  father  if  he  needed  me.  But  I  think 
the  worst  is  now  over.  He  is  sleeping  quietly 
I  can  trust  aunty  even  better  than  myself. 
Besides,  I  want  to  go.  I  need  the  fresh  air,  and  I 
wish  to  see  more  of  you  before  you  leave  us." 


378  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

He  cordially  thanked  her  and  said,  "  I  shall  wait 
for  ycu  on  the  piazza." 

They  went  down  across  the  lawn  through  the  gar- 
den.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  though  occa 
sionally  obscured  by  clouds. 

"  How  beautiful  everything  is,"  said  Annie,  "  even 
now,  when  the  leaves  are  half  off  the  trees  and  fall 
ing  fast !  At  any  season  the  moment  I  get  out  or 
doors  I  feel  new  life  and  hope." 

"What  nature  does  for  you,  Miss  Annie,  you  seem 
to  do  for  others.  I  feel  'new  life  and  hope  '  the  mo 
ment  I  am  with  you." 

She  looked  at  him  quickly,  for  she  did  not  quite 
like  his  tone  and  manner.  But  she  only  said,  "  You 
must  believe,  as  I  do,  in  a  power  behind  nature." 

"  But  even  you  believe  He  works  through  human 
agencies." 

"Yes,  up  to  a  certain  point." 

"  But  who  can  say  where  that  point  is  in  any 
experience?  Miss  Walton,"  he  continued,  in  grave 
earnestness,  stopping  and  pointing  to  the  rustic  seat 
where,  on  the  previous  Sabbath,  he  had  revealed  to 
her  his  evil  life,  "  that  place  is  sacred  to  me.  No 
hallowed  spot  of  earth  to  which  pilgrimages  are 
made  can  compare  with  it.  You  know  that  in  some 
places  in  Europe  they  raise  a  rude  cross  by  the 
roadside  where  a  man  has  been  murdered.  Should 
there  not  be  a  monument  where  one  was  given 
life  ?  " 

As  they  resumed  their  walk,  he  said  in  a  low,  mean^ 
ing  tone,  "  Do  you  remember  old  Daddy  Tuggar'? 


PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE.  379 

words, — 'You  could  take  the  wickedest  man  living 
straight  to  heaven  if  you'd  stay  right  by  him'?" 

"  But  he  was  wrong,"  she  replied. 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  differ  with  you,  and  agree  with 
him.  Miss  Walton,  I've  been  in  your  society 
scarcely  three  weeks.  You  know  what  I  was  when 
I  came.  I  make  no  great  claims  now,  but  surely  if 
tendencies,  wishes,  purposes  count  for  anything,  I 
am  very  different.  How  can  you  argue  me  out  of 
the  consciousness  that  I  owe  it  all  to  you  ?  " 

"  You  will  one  day  understand,"  she  answered, 
earnestly,  "that  God  has  helped  us  both,  and  how 
futile  my  efforts  would  have  been  without  such 
help.  But,  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  continued,  looking 
frankly  into  his  flushed  face  (for  she  was  beginning 
to  suspect  now  something  of  his  drift,  and  instinct 
ively  sought  to  ward  off  words  which  might  disturb 
their  pleasant  relations),  "  I  do  not  intend  to  give 
you  up  from  this  day  forth.  As  our  quaint  old 
friend  suggests,  I  do  mean  to  stand  right  by  you 
as  far  as  circumstances  will  allow  me.  I  recognize 
how  isolated  and  lonely  you  are,  and  I  feel  almost  a 
sister  s  interest  in  you." 

"You  emphasize  the  word  'sister.'  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  be  more  than  satisfied.  Believe  me  I  am 
very  grateful  that  you  can  so  speak.  But  suppose 
the  frankness  I  promised  compels  me  to  say  that  it 
does  not,  and  never  can  satisfy  ?  " 

"  Then  I  shall  think  you  very  unreasonable.  You 
have  no  right  to  ask  more  than  one  has  the  power  to 
give,"  she  answered,  with  a  look  and  manner  that 


380  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

were  full  of  pain.  "  But  surely,  Mr.  Gregory,  we  do 
not  understand  each  other." 

"  But  I  want  you  to  understand  me,"  he  exclaimed, 
earnestly.  "  If  you  had  the  vanity  and  worldly 
experience  of  most  women,  you  would  have  known 
before  this  that  I  love  you." 

Tears  rushed  into  Annie's  eyes,  and  for  a  few  mo 
ments  she  walked  on  in  utter  silence.  This  was  so 
different  an  ending  from  what  she  had  expected  ! 
She  felt  that  she  must  be  very  careful  or  she  would 
undo  all  she  had  attempted.  She  now  dreaded 
utter  failure,  utter  estrangement,  and  how  to  avoid 
these  was  her  chief  thought. 

They  had  reached  the  cedar  thicket  near  which 
they  had  first  met,  and  she  sat  down  upon  the  rock 
where  she  had  found  Gregory.  Her  whole  aim  was 
to  end  this  unfortunate  matter  so  that  they  might 
still  continue  friends.  And  yet  the  task  seemed 
well-nigh  impossible,  for  if  he  felt  as  he  said,  how 
could  she  tell  him  about  Hunting  without  increasing 
their  alienation  ?  But  her  impression  was  strong  that 
he  was  acting  under  an  exaggerated  sense  of  her 
services  and  under  a  mistaken  belief  that  she  was 
essential  to  him.  Therefore  she  tried  at  first  to  turn 
the  matter  off  lightly  by  saying,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  you 
are  the  most  grateful  man  I  ever  heard  of.  You 
need  not  think  you  must  reward  my  slight  services 
by  marrying  me." 

"  Now  you  greatly  wrong  me,"  he  answered.  "  Did 
I  not  say  I  loved  you  ?  How  deeply  and  truly  you 
can  never  know.  I  cannot  reward  you.  I  did  not 


PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE.  381 

dream  of  such  a  thing.  My  best  hope  was  that  some 
time  in  the  future,  when  by  long  and  patient  effort 
I  had  become  truly  a  man,  you  might  learn  to  think 
of  me  in  the  way  I  wish." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  she,  in  a  voice  full  of  trouble, 
"  has  my  manner  or  words  led  yc»u  to  hope  this?  If 
so,  I  can  never  forgive  myself." 

"You  have  no  cause  for  self-reproaches,"  he  said, 
earnestly.  "  Though  my  suit  should  ever  prove  hope 
less,  in  the  depths  of  my  heart  I  will  acquit  you  of 
all  blame.  \  ou  have  been  what  you  promised, — a 
true  friend,  nothing  more.  But  please  understand 
me.  I  ask  nothing  now,  I  am  not  worthy.  Perhaps 
I  never  shall  be.  If  so,  I  will  not  bind  you  to  me 
with  even  a  gossamer  thread.  I  have  too  deep  a 
respect  for  you.  But  I  am  so  self-distrustful!  I 
know  my  weakness  better  than  you  can.  Still  I  am 
confident  that  if  you  could  '  reward '  me,  and  give 
the  hope  that  you  would  crown  the  victory  with 
yourself,  I  could  do  anything.  In  loving  me,  you 
would  save  me." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  you  are  all  wrong.  I'm  only  an 
oar,  but  you  look  upon  me  as  the  life-boat  itself. 
In  that  you  persist  in  looking  to  me,  a  weak,  sinful 
creature,  instead  of  to  Him  who  alone  '  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world,'  you  discourage  me  utterly." 

"  I  will  look  to  Him,  but  I  want  you  to  lead  me 
to  Him,  and  keep  me  at  His  side." 

"  I  can  do  that  just  as  well  by  being  your  friend." 

"  I  can  never  think  so.  I  shall  go  away  from  this 
place  utterly  disheartened  unless  you  give  me  some 


382  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

hope,  no  matter  how  faint,  that  I  shall  not  have  to 
struggle  alone." 

She  sprung  up  quickly,  for  he  incensed  her,  while 
at  the  same  time  she  pitied  him.  She  could  not 
understand  how  he  had  so  soon  learned  to  love  her 
"deeply  and  truly."  It  rather  appeared  true  that  he 
had  formed  the  mistaken  opinion  that  she  was 
essential  to  his  success,  and  that  he  was  bent  upon 
bolstering  himself  up  in  his  weakness,  and  sought  to 
place  her  as  a  barrier  between  him  and  his  old  evil 
life ;  and  she  felt  that  he  might  need  some  whole 
some  truth  rather  than  tender  sympathy.  At  any 
rate  her  womanly  nature  took  offence  at  his  apparent 
motive,  as  she  understood  it, — a  motive  that  ap 
peared  more  selfish  and  unworthy  every  moment. 
He  was  asking  what  he  had  no  right  to  expect  of 
any  one.  But  she  would  not  misunderstand  him, 
and  therefore  said  with  a  grave,  searching  look, 
"  Only  then  as  I  give  you  the  hope  you  ask  for,  will 
you  make  the  effort  you  have  promised  to  make  ?  " 

"  Only  then  can  I  make  it,"  he  replied,  in  some 
confusion.  "  Can  effort  of  any  kind  be  asked  of  one 
utterly  disabled?" 

Sudden  fire  leaped  into  her  dark  eyes,  but  she 
said,  with  dignity,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  you  disappoint  me 
greatly.  You  assume  a  weakness — a  disability — 
which  does  not  and  cannot  exist  under  the  circum 
stances.  You  made  me  a  promise,  but  now  impose 
a  new  condition  which  I  did  not  dream  of  at  the 
time,  and  which  I  cannot  accept.  You  are  asking 
more  than  you  have  a  right  to  ask.  However  im* 


PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE.  383 

perfect  my  efforts  have  been  in  your  behalf,  they 
were  at  least  sincere  ana  unselfish,  and  I  was  begin 
ning  to  have  a  warm  regard  for  you  as  a  friend.  I  tell 
you  frankly  that  I  am  most  anxious  that  we  should 
remain  friends  as  before.  If  so,  this  kind  of  folly 
must  cease  now  and  forever.  I  have  no  right  to 
listen  to  such  words  at  all,  and  would  not  but  for 
your  sake,  and  in  the  hope  of  removing  from  your 
mind  a  very  mistaken  and  unworthy  idea.  You  are 
entirely  wrong  in  thinking  that  your  future  depends 
solely  upon  me.  It  cannot — it  ought  not.  It  rests 
between  you  and  God,  and  you  cannot  shift  the 
responsibility.  I  am  willing  to  do  all  you  can  ask  of 
a  sister,  but  no  more.  Do  you  think  I  have  no 
needs,  no  weakness,  myself?  In  a  husband  I  want  a 
man  I  can  lean  upon  as  well  as  help.  I  wish  to  marry 
one  with  a  higher  moral  character  than  mine,  to 
whom  I  can  look  up.  There  is  the  widest  difference 
in  the  world  between  giving  help,  and  even  sincere 
affection  to  those  who  win  it,  and  giving  one's  self 
away.  Simple  justice  requires  that  my  happiness 
and  feelings  be  considered  also.  It  is  selfish  in  you 
to  ask  of  me  this  useless  sacrifice  of  myself." 

Annie's  quick,  passionate  nature  was  getting  the 
better  of  her.  It  seemed  in  a  certain  sense  disloyalty 
to  Hunting  to  have  listened  thus  long  to  Gregory. 
Moreover,  not  believing  in  nor  understanding  the 
latter's  love  for  her,  she  was  indignant  that  he  should 
seek  to  employ  her  as  a  sort  of  stepping-stone  into 
heaven.  She  would  despise  the  man  who  sought 
her  merely  to  advance  his  earthly  interests,  and  she 


384  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

was  growing  honestly  angry  at  Gregory,  who,  it 
seemed,  wanted  her  only  as  a  guide  and  staff  in  his 
pilgrimage; — justly  angry,  too,  if  she  were  right. 

Gregory  became  very  pale  as  her  words  quivered 
in  his  heart  like  arrows,  but  in  the  consciousness  of 
a  true  and  unselfish  love,  he  looked  at  her  unfalter 
ingly  to  the  last,  and  said,  "  In  justice  to  myself  I 
might  again  urge  that  you  misunderstand  me.  I 
asked  for  nothing  now,  only  a  hope  for  the  future 
based  on  what  I  possibly  might  become.  But,  as  you 
say,  I  now  know  I  asked  too  much, — more  than  I 
had  a  right  to.  You  can  never  look  up  to  me,  and 
with  a  sadness  you  will  never  understand,  I  admit 
myself  answered  finally.  But  there  is  one  imputa 
tion  in  your  words  that  I  cannot  rest  under.  I 
solemnly  assert  before  God,  and  in  the  name  of  my 
mother,  that  my  love  for  you  is  as  strong,  pure,  and 
unselfish  as  can  exist  in  my  half-wrecked  nature." 

"  O  dear !  "  exclaimed  Annie,  in  a  tone  of  mingled 
vexation  and  distress,  "  why  has  it  all  turned  out 
so  miserably?  I'm  so  sorry,  so  very  sorry;  but  in 
kindness  I  must  show  you  how  hopeless  it  all  is.  I 
am  the  same  as  engaged  to  another." 

Gregory  started  violently.  His  despairing  words 
had  been  not  quite  despairing.  But  now  a  chill 
like  death  settled  about  his  heart.  He  was  well 
satisfied  that  she  was  one  who  would  be  true  as  steel 
to  all  such  ties,  and  that  no  man  who  had  learned  to 
know  her  would  ever  prove  inconstant.  But,  with  a 
white  face  and  firmly  compressed  lips,  he  still  listened 
quietly. 


PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE.  385 

"  I  came  out  this  morning  hoping  to  tell  you  a 
little  secret  as  I  might  confide  in  a  brother,  and  I 
trusted  that  your  friendship  for  me  would  prove 
strong  enough  to  enable  me  to  make  you  his  friend 
also.  I  wanted  you  to  stay  a  little  longer,  that  you 
might  meet  him,  and  that  I  might  reconcile  you,  and 
prepare  the  way  for  pleasant  companionship  in  the 
future.  I  am  expecting  Charles  Hunting  now 
every — " 

"What  is  the  matter?  What  do  you  mean  by 
that  look  of  horror  ?  What  have  you  against  him, 
that  you  should  show  such  deep  hostility  before,  and 
now  stare  at  me  in  almost  terror?" 

But  he  only  staggered  against  a  tree  for  support. 

"  Speak,"  cried  she,  passionately  seizing  his  arm. 
"  I  will  not  endure  the  innuendo  of  your  look  and 
manner." 

"  I  will  speak,"  he  answered,  in  sudden  vehemence. 
"  I've  lost  too  much  by  him.  Charles  Hunting  is — " 

But  he  stopped,  clinched  his  hands,  and  seemed 
to  make  a  desperate  effort  at  self-control.  She  heard 
him  mutter  as  he  turned  away  a  few  steps,  "  Stop! 
stop  !  All  that  is  left  you  now  is  a  little  self-respect. 
Keep  that — keep  that." 

Annie  misunderstood  him,  and  thought  he  referred 
to  some  slander  that  he  had  hesitated  to  utter 
against  his  enemy  even  in  his  anger  and  jealousy. 
With  flashing  eyes  she  said,  "  Let  me  complete  the 
sentence  for  you.  Charles  Hunting  is  a  Christian 
gentleman.  You  may  well  think  twice  before  you 
speak  one  word  against  him  in  my  presence." 


586  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"Did  I  say  one  word  against  him?"  he  asked, 
eagerly. 

"  No,  but  you  looked  much  more  than  words  can 
express." 

"  I  could  not  help  that.  Your  revelation  was 
sudden,  Miss  Walton." 

"How  could  it  be  otherwise?"  she  asked,  indig 
nantly.  "  The  first  evening  of  your  arrival,  when  his 
name  was  mentioned,  your  face  grew  as  black  as 
night.  When  I  again  sought  to  speak  to  you  of  him, 
you  adjured  me  never  to  mention  his  name.  You 
taxed  my  forbearance  severely  at  that  time.  But  I 
hoped  you  would  become  so  changed  that  such 
enmity  would  be  impossible." 

"  I  see  it  all  now,"  he  groaned, — "  the  miserable 
fatality  of  it  all.  I  must  shut  off  the  one  way  of 
escape,  and  then  go  forward.  By  my  own  act,  I 
must  destroy  my  one  chance.  If  I  had  only  known 
this  in  time.  And  yet  it's  through  my  own  act  that 
I  did  not  know.  Your  God  is  certainly  one  of 
justice.  I'm  punished  now  for  all  the  past.  But  it 
seems  a  trifle  cruel  to  show  one  heaven  and  then 
shut  the  door  in  one's  face.  If  I  had  only  known! " 

"  There,"  exclaimed  Annie,  in  the  deepest  distress; 
"  because  of  this  little  thing  you  fall  back  into  your 
old  scepticism.'" 

"  This  '  little  thing '  is  death  to  me,"  he  said,  in  a 
hard,  bitter  tone.  "  O  no,  I'm  not  at  all  sceptical. 
The  '  argument  from  design,'  the  nature  of  the  result, 
are  both  too  clear.  I'm  simply  being  dealt  with 
according  to  law.  Though  perfectly  sincere,  you 


PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE,  387 

were  entirely  too  lenient  that  Sunday  evening  when 
I  told  you  what  I  was.  My  conscience  was  right 
after  all.  I  only  wish  that  I  had  fallen  from  yonder 
roof  the  other  night.  I  might  then  have  made  my 
exit  decently." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  shock  me,"  she  said,  almost 
sternly.  "  You  have  no  right  to  insult  my  faith  in  a 
merciful  God  by  such  words,  and  your  believing  Him 
cruel  and  vindictive  on  this  one  bit  of  your  expe 
rience  is  the  sheerest  egotism.  It  is  the  essence  of 
selfishness  to  think  everything  wrong  when  one  does 
not  have  one's  own  way." 

He  only  bowed  his  answer,  then  stepped  out  to 
the  point  of  the  hill,  and  took  a  long,  lingering  look 
at  the  valley  and  his  old  home,  sighed  deeply,  turned, 
and  said  to  her,  quietly,  "  Perhaps  it  is  time  for  yow 
to  return  to  your  father/' 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

WHAT  A  LOVER  COULD  DO. 

WITHOUT  a  word  they  descended  the  hill. 
Gregory  was  very  pale,  and  this,  with  a  certain 
firmness  about  his  mouth,  was  the  only  indication 
of  feeling  on  his  part.  Otherwise,  he  was  the  same 
finished  man  of  the  world  that  he  had  appeared  when 
he  came.  Annie's  face  grew  more  and  more  troubled 
with  every  glance  at  him. 

"  He  is  hardening  into  stone/'  she  thought ;  and 
she  was  already  reproaching  herself  for  speaking  so 
harshly.  "  I  might  have  known,"  she  thought, 
•4  that  his  rash,  bitter  words  were  only  incoherent 
cries  of  pain  and  disappointment." 

He  perplexed  her  still  more  by  saying  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  in  his  old  light  tone,  "  See,  Miss  Walton, 
our  '  well-meaning  friend '  has  not  been  here  to  put 
up  the  bars,  and  we  can  take  the  shorter  way  through 
the  orchard.  I  would  like  to  see  them  picking 
apples  once  more.  By  the  way,  you  must  say  good- 
by  for  me  to  your  old  neighbor,  and  tell  him  that  out 
of  respect  for  his  first  honest  greeting,  I'm  going  to 
fill  his  pipe  for  the  winter." 

But  Annie's  heart  was  too  full  to  answer. 

"  How  familiar  these  mossy-trunked  trees  are!" 


WHA  T  A  LOVER  COULD  DO.  389 

he  continued,  determined  that  there  should  be  no 
awkward  pauses,  no  traces  to  the  eyes  of  others  of 
what  had  occurred.  "  How  often  I've  picked  apples 
from  this  one  and  that  one, — indeed  from  all !  Good- 
by,  old  friends." 

"  Do  you  never  expect  to  come  back  to  these  *  old 
friends,'  and  others  that  would  be  friends  again  ?  " 
she  asked,  in  low,  trembling  tones.  "  Mr.  Gregory, 
you  are  cruel.  You  are  saying  good-by  as  if  it  were 
a  very  ordinary  matter." 

He  did  not  trust  himself  to  look  at  her,  but  he  said, 
firmly,  "  Miss  Walton,  in  a  few  moments  we  shall  be 
under  the  eyes  of  others,  and  perhaps  I  shall  nevef 
have  another  chance  to  speak  to  you  alone.  Let  me 
say  a  few  plain,  honest  words  before  I  go.  I  am 
not  ashamed  of  my  love  for  you,  nor  to  have  it 
known.  I  am  glad  there  was  man  enough  in  me  to 
love  such  a  woman  as  you  are.  You  are  not  one  of  those 
society  belles  who  wish  to  boast  of  their  conquests.  I 
wish  merely  to  leave  in  a  manner  that  will  save  you 
all  embarrassing  questions  and  surmises,  and  enable 
you  to  go  back  to  your  father  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened.  The  best  I  can  do  is  to  maintain  the  out 
ward  semblance  of  a  gentleman  with  which  I  came. 
In  regard  to  Charles  Hunting — please  listen  patiently 
— I  know  that  you  will  not  believe  any  statement  of 
mine.  It  is  your  nature  to  trust  implicitly  those 
you  love.  But  since  I  have  had  time  to  think,  even 
the  little  conscience  I  possess  will  not  permit  me  to 
go  away  in  silence  in  regard  to  him.  Do  not  think 
my  words  inspired  by  jealousy.  1  have  given  you 


390  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

up.  You  are  as  unattainable  by  me  as  heaven.  But 
that  man  is  not  worthy  of  you.  Think  well  before 
you— " 

"  You  are  right,"  she  interrupted,  hotly.  "  I  will 
not  believe  anything  against  him  whom  I  have  known 
and  loved  for  years.  If  sincere,  you  are  mistaken. 
But  I  entreat  you,  for  my  own  sake  as  well  as  yours, 
never  speak  a  word  against  him  again.  Because,  if 
you  do,  it  will  be  hard  for  me  to  forgive  you.  If  you 
place  the  slightest  value  on  my  good  opinion  and 
continued  regard,  you  will  not  throw  them  away  so 
uselessly.  I  do  feel — I  ever  wish  to  feel — a  deep 
and  friendly  interest  in  you,  therefore  speak  for 
yourself,  and  I  will  listen  with  honest  sympathy. 
Give  me  hope,  if  possible,  that  you  will  think  better 
of  all  this  folly, — that  you  will  visit  your  old  home 
and  those  who  wish  to  be  your  true  friends, — that 
you  will  give  me  a  chance  to  make  you  better  ac 
quainted  with  one  whom  you  now  greatly  wrong. 
Please  give  me  something  better  than  this  parting 
promises  to  end  in." 

He  merely  bowed  and  said,  "  I  supposed  it  would 
be  so.  It  is  like  you.  As  for  myself — I  do  not 
know  what  my  future  will  be,  save  that  it  will  be  full 
of  pain.  Rest  assured  of  one  thing,  however.  I  can 
never  be  a  common,  vulgar  sinner  again,  after  having 
loved  you.  That  would  be  sacrilege.  Your  memory 
will  blend  with  that  of  my  mother,  and  shine  like  a 
distant  star  in  my  long  night.  But  you  have  no 
right  to  ask  me  to  come  here  any  more.  Though 
you  do  not  believe  in  my  love,  it  is  a  reality  never- 


WHAT  A  LOVER  COULD  DO.  391 

theless,  and  I  cannot  inflict  upon  myself  the  unbear 
able  pain  of  seeing  you,  yet  hedged  about  with  that 
which  must  ever  keep  me  at  a  distance.  With  my 
feelings,  even  my  poor  sense  of  honor  forbids  my 
seeking  your  presence.  Can  I  visit  you  feigning 
friendship,  while  my  heart  is  consuming  with  love  ? 
Come,  Miss  Walton,  we  shall  have  our  real  leave- 
taking  here,  and  our  formal  one  at  the  house.  I  don't 
think  gratitude  will  ever  fade  out  of  my  heart  for  all 
you  have  tried  to  do  for  me,  wherever  I  am.  Even 
the  '  selfish  '  Walter  Gregory  can  honestly  wish  you 
happiness  unalloyed.  And  you  will  have  it,  too,  in 
spite  of — well,  in  spite  of  everything,  for  your 
happiness  is  from  within,  not  without.  Give  me 
your  hand,  and  say  good-by  under  the  old  mossy 
trees." 

Annie  burst  into  tears  and  said,  "  I  can't  say 
good-by  and  have  you  leave  us  so  unhappy, — so 
unbelieving.  Mr.  Gregory,  will  you  never  trust  in 
God  ?  " 

"  I  fear  not — not  after  what  I  know  to-day.  He 
seems  wronging  you  who  are  so  true  to  Him,  as 
well  as  me.  You  see  I  am  honest  with  you,  as  I 
said  I  would  be.  Can  you  take  the  hand  of  such 
as  I?" 

She  did  take  it  in  both  of  hers,  and  said,  with 
passionate  earnestness,  u  O  that  I  could  save  you 
from  yourself  by  main  force !  " 

He  was  deeply  moved,  but  after  a  moment  said, 
gently,  "  That  is  like  your  warm  heart.  But  you 
cannot.  Good-by,  Annie  Walton.  Go  on  in  your 


392  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

brave,  noble  life  to  the  end,  and  then  heaven  will  be 
the  better  for  your  coming." 

"  Will  you  forgive  my  harsh  words  ?  " 

"They  were  more  true  than  harsh.  They  were 
forgiven  when  spoken." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  cried,  "  I  will  not  say  farewell 
as  you  say  it.  I  have  prayed  for  you,  and  so  has  your 
mother.  I  will  still  pray  for  you  unceasingly.  You 
cannot  prevent  it,  and  I  will  not  doubt  God's  promise 
to  hear." 

"  I  cannot  share  your  faith.  I  am  saying  good-by 
in  the  saddest  sense." 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her  hand,  and  then  said, 
firmly,  "  The  end  has  come.  We  really  part  here.  I 
leave  you  as  I  came." 

With  eyes  downcast  and  blinded  with  tears  she  ac 
companied  him  out  of  the  deep  shade  to  the  farther 
side  of  the  orchard  nearest  the  house.  Jeff  was  on  a 
tall  ladder  that  leaned  against  a  heavily  laden  tree, 
and  was  just  about  to  descend. 

"  That's  right,"  cried  Gregory ;  "  come  down  with 
your  basket  and  give  me  a  taste  of  those  apples. 
They  look  the  same  as  when  I  used  to  pick  them  six 
teen  years  ago." 

Jeff  obeyed  with  alacrity.  Gregory  accompanied 
him  a  few  steps,  and  dropped  a  banknote  into  the 
basket,  saying,  "That's  for  the  jolly  wood-fires  you 
made  for  me,"  and  then  turned  quickly  toward  Annie 
to  escape  the  profuse  thanks  impending. 

He  had  turned  none  too  soon.  The  apple-boughs, 
relieved  of  the  weight  of  the  fruit  and  Jeff's  solid 


WHAT  A  LOVER  COULD  DO.  393 

person,  threw  out  the  heavy  ladder  that  had  been 
placed  too  nearly  in  a  perpendicular  position  at  first. 
It  had  trembled  and  wavered  a  moment,  but  was 
now  inclining  over  the  very  spot  where  Annie  was 
standing. 

"  Miss  Walton  !  "  he  cried,  with  a  look  of  horror; 
rushed  toward  her,  and  stood  with  head  bent  down 
between  her  and  the  falling  ladder. 

She  heard  a  rushing  sound,  and  then  with  a  heavy 
thud  the  ladder  struck  him,  glanced  to  one  side, 
grazing  her  shoulder,  and  fell  to  the  ground. 

He  lay  motionless  beneath  it. 

For  a  moment  she  gazed  vacantly  at  him,  too 
stunned  to  think  or  speak. 

But  Jeff  ran  and  lifted  the  ladder  off  Gregory,  ex 
claiming,  "  Lor'  bless  him,  Miss  Annie,  he  jus'  done 
save  your  life." 

She  knelt  at  his  side  and  took  his  hand,  but  it 
seemed  that  of  the  dead.  She  moaned,  "  The  omen's 
true.  His  blood  is  on  me  now — his  blood  is  on  me 
now.  He  died  for  my  sake,  and  I  called  him  selfish." 

She  took  his  head  into  her  lap,  and  put  her  hand 
over  his  heart. 

She  thought  she  felt  a  faint  pulsation. 

In  a  moment  all  trace  of  weakness  vanished,  and 
her  face  became  resolute  and  strong. 

"Jeff,"  she  said,  in  clear-cut,  decided  tones,  "  go  to 
the  house,  tell  Hannah  and  Zibbie  to  come  here ; 
tell  Hannah  to  bring  brandy  and  a  strong  double 
blanket.  Not  a  word  o£  this  to  my  father.  Go, 
quick." 


394  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Jeff  ran,  as  he  had  done  once  before  when  the  blood* 
hounds  were  after  him,  saying  under  his  breath  all 
the  way,  "  Lor'  bless  him  !  He  save  Miss  Annie's 
life;  he  orter  have  her  sure  'nuff." 

Annie  was  left  alone  with  the  unconscious  man. 
She  pushed  his  hair  from  his  damp  brow,  and,  bend- 
ing  down,  impressed  a  remorseful  kiss  upon  it. 

"  God  forgive  me  that  I  called  you  selfish,"  she 
murmured.  "  Where  is  your  spirit  wandering  that  I 
cannot  call  it  back?  O  live,  live ;  I  can  never  be 
happy  if  you  die.  Can  this  be  the  end  ?  God  keep 
my  faith  from  failing." 

Again  she  put  her  hand  over  his  heart,  whose  love 
she  could  doubt  no  more.  Did  it  beat  ?  or  was  it 
only  the  excited  throbbing  of  her  own  hand? 

Jeff  now  returned,  and,  with  white,  scared  faces, 
the  women  soon  followed.  Annie  tried  to  give 
Gregory  brandy,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  swallow  it. 
They  then  lifted  him  on  the  blanket  and  carried  him 
to  the  house,  and  up  the  back  stairway  to  his  room, 
so  that  Mr.  Walton  might  not  know. 

"  Now,  Jeff,"  whispered  Annie,  "  harness  the  fastest 
horse  to  the  buggy,  and  bring  the  doctor — mind, 
bring  him.  Don't  tell  him  to  come.  Hannah,  tell 
Miss  Eulie  to  come  here — quietly  now.  Zibbie,  bring 
hot  water." 

Again  she  poured  a  teaspoonful  of  brandy  into  his 
mouth,  and  this  time  he  seemed  to  swallow  it.  She 
bathed  his  face  and  hands  with  spirits,  while  her 
every  breath  was  a  prayer. 

Miss    Eulie   did    not   want   a  long    explanation. 


WHAT  A  LOVER  COULD  DO.  395 

Annie's  hurried  words,  "  A  ladder  fell  on  him,"  satis 
fied  her,  and  she  set  to  work,  and  more  effectively 
with  her  riper  experience.  She  took  off  his  collar 
and  opened  his  shirt  at  the  throat,  and  soon,  with  a 
look  of  joy,  to  Annie,  said,  "  His  heart  beats  dis 
tinctly." 

Again  they  gave  him  brandy,  and  this  time  he  made 
a  manifest  effort  to  swallow  it. 

With  eyes  aglow  with  excitement  and  hope  they 
redoubled  their  exertions,  Hannah  and  Zibbie  help* 
ing,  and  at  last  they  were  rewarded  by  seeing  their 
patient  make  a  faint  movement. 

Now  with  every  breath  Annie  silently  sent  the 
words  heavenward,  "  O  God,  I  thank  thee." 

She  bent  over  him,  and  said,  in  a  low,  thrilling 
tone,  "  Mr.  Gregory."  A  happy  smile  came  out  upon 
his  face,  but  this  was  the  only  response. 

"  Do  you  think  he  is  conscious?  "  she  whispered  to 
her  aunt. 

"  I  hardly  know.  Let  me  give  him  a  little  more 
stimulant." 

After  receiving  it  he  suddenly  opened  his  eyes  and 
looked  fearfully  around.  Then  he  tried  to  rise,  but 
fell  back,  and  asked,  faintly,  "Where  is  Miss  Walton? 
Is  she  safe  ?  I  heard  her  voice." 

"You  did.     I'm  here.     Don't  you  know  me?" 

"Are  you  really  here  unhurt?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  answered,  eagerly ;  "  thanks  to 
you." 

Again  he  closed  his  eyes  with  a  strange  and  quiet 
smile. 


39$  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"Can't  you  see  me?"  she  asked. 

"  There  seems  a  blur  before  my  eyes.  It  does  not 
signify.  I  know  your  voice,  so  true  and  kind." 

"Why  can't  he  see  ?"  she  asked,  drawing  her  aunt 
aside. 

"  I  don't  know.  What  I  fear  most  are  internal  in 
juries.  Did  the  ladder  strike  his  head?" 

"  O  merciful  Heaven ! "  said  Annie,  again  in  an 
agony  of  fear.  "  I  don't  know.  Oh,  if  he  should 
die — if  he  should  die — "  and  she  wrung  her  hands 
with  terror  at  the  thought. 

The  doctor  now  stepped  lightly  in.  Jeff  had  told 
him  enough  to  excite  the  gravest  apprehensions. 
He  made  a  few  inquiries  and  felt  Gregory's  pulse. 

"It's  very  feeble,"  he  said.     "  More  brandy." 

Then  he  added,  "I  must  make  such  examination 
as  I  can  now  without  disturbing  him  much.  Miss  Mor 
ton,  you  and  Jeff  stay  and  help  me." 

Annie  went  down  to  her  father  with  a  greater  anx 
iety  as  to  the  result  of  the  examination  than  if  the 
danger  had  been  her  own. 

She  found  her  father  awake,  and  wondering  at  the 
sounds  in  the  room  above. 

"  Annie,"  he  said,  feebly,  "what  is  going  on  in  Mr. 
Gregory's  room?" 

As  she  looked  at  him,  she  saw  that  he  was  not  bet 
ter,  as  she  hoped,  but  that  his  face  had  a  shrunken 
look,  betokening  the  rapid  failing  of  the  vital  forces. 
The  poor  girl  felt  that  trouble  was  coming  like  an 
avalanche,  and  in  spite  of  herself  she  sat  down,  and, 
burying  her  face  in  her  father's  bosom,  sobbed 


WHA  T  A  LOVER  COULD  DO.  397 

aloud.  But  she  soon  realized  the  injury  she  might 
do  him  in  thus  giving  way,  and  by  a  great  effort 
controlled  herself  so  as  to  tell  him  the  softened  out 
lines  of  the  accident.  But  the  ashen  hue  deepened 
on  the  old  man's  face,  as  he  said,  fervently,  "  God 
bless  him  !  God  bless  him  !  He  has  saved  my  dar. 
ling's  life.  What  should  I  have  done  in  these  last 
days  without  you  ?  " 

"  But,  father,  don't  you  think  he  will  get  well  ?  " 
she  asked,  eagerly. 

"  I  hope  so.  I  pray  so,  my  child.  But  I  know  the 
ladder,  and  it  is  a  heavy  one.  This  is  time  for  faith 
in  God.  We  cannot  see  a  hand's-breadth  in  the  dark 
ness  before  us.  He  has  been  very  merciful  to  us  thus 
far,  very  merciful,  and  no  doubt  has  some  wise,  good 
purpose  in  these  trials  and  dangers.  Just  cling  to 
Him,  my  child,  and  all  will  be  well." 

"O  father,  how  you  comfort  me  !  We  must  leave 
everything  in  His  hands.  But,  father,  youTeel  better, 
do  you  not  ?" 

"Yes,  much  better;  not  much  pain  now;  and  yet 
for  some  reason  I  feel  that  I  shall  soon  be  where  pain 
never  comes.  How  otherwise  can  I  explain  my 
almost  mortal  weakness?" 

Annie  again  hid  her  tearful  eyes  on  the  bedside. 
Her  father  placed  his  hand  upon  her  bowed  head  and 
continued,  "  It  won't  break  your  heart,  my  little  girl, 
will  it,  to  have  your  father  go  to  heaven  ?  " 

But  she  could  not  answer  him. 

At  last  the  doctor  came  down,  and  said,  "  His  in- 
juries  are  certainly  serious,  and  may  be  more  so  than 


398  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

I  can  yet  discover.  The  ladder  grazed  his  head,  in 
flicting  some  injury,  and  struck  him  on  the  shoulder, 
which  is  much  bruised,  and  the  collar-bone  is  badly 
broken.  The  whole  system  has  received  a  tremendous 
shock,  but  I  hope  that  with  good  care  he  will  pull 
through.  But  he  must  be  kept  very  quiet  in  mind 
and  body.  And  so  must  you,  sir.  Now  you  know 
all,  and  have  nothing  to  suspect.  It's  often  injurious 
kindness  to  half  hide  something  from  the  sick." 

"Well,  doctor,  do  your  very  best  by  him,  as 
if  he  were  my  own  son.  You  know  what  a  debt  of 
gratitude  we  owe  him.  Spare  no  expense.  If  he 
needs  anything,  let  it  be  sent  for.  If  I  were 
only  up  and  around  ;  but  the  Lord  wills  it  other 
wise." 

Annie  followed  the  physician  out  and  said,  "  You 
have  told  us  the  very  worst  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Walton,  the  very  worst.  Unless  there 
are  injuries  th'.i  I  cannot  now  detect  I  think  he  will 
get  better.  I  will  send  a  young  man  whom  I  can 
trust  to  take  care  of  him.  Rest  assured  I  will  do  all 
that  is  possible,  for  I  feel  very  grateful  to  this  stranger 
for  saving  my  much-esteemed  little  friend.  I  suppose 
you  know  we  all  think  a  great  deal  of  you  in  our 
neighborhood,  and  I  shudder  to  think  how  near  we 
came  to  a  general  mourning.  You  see  he  was  nearer 
the  base  of  the  ladder  than  you,  Jeff  says.  The  ladder 
therefore  would  have  struck  you  with  greater  force, 
and  you  would  not  have  had  a  ghost  of  a  chance.  You 
ought  to  be  very  grateful,  eh,  Miss  Annie  ?  "  he  added, 
with  a  little  sly  fun  in  his  face. 


WHA  T  A  LO  VER  COULD  DO.  399 

But  she  shook  her  head  sadly,  and  only  said  with 
deep  feeling,  "I  am  very,  very  grateful."  Then  she 
added,  quickly.  "What  about  father?" 

The  doctor's  face  changed  instantly  and  became 
grave. 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  his  case.  He  was 
threatened  with  pneumonia;  but  there  seems  no 
acute  disease  now,  and  yet  he  appears  to  be  failing. 
The  excitement  and  exposure  of  the  other  night  were 
too  much  for  him.  You  must  make  him  take  all  the 
nourishment  possible.  Medicine  is  of  no  use." 

Agitated  by  conflicting  fears  and  hopes  Annie  went 
to  the  kitchen  to  make  something  that  might  tempt 
her  father's  appetite. 

Blessed  are  the  petty  and  distracting  cares  of  the 
household,  the  homely  duties  of  the  sick-room. 
They  divert  the  mind  and  break  the  force  of  the  im 
pending  blow.  If,  when  illness  and  death  invade  a 
house,  the  fearing  and  sorrowing  ones  had  naught  to 
do  but  sit  down  and  watch  the  remorseless  approach 
of  the  destroyer,  they  might  go  mad. 

When  Annie  stole  noiselessly  back  to  Gregory's 
room  he  was  sleeping,  though  his  breathing  seemed 
difficult. 

What  a  poor  mockery  the  dinner  hour  was !  Even 
the  children  were  oppressed  by  the  general  gloom 
and  talked  in  whispers.  But  before  it  was  over 
there  came  a  bright  ray  of  light  to  Annie  in  the  form 
of  a  telegram  from  Hunting,  saying  that  he  had  ar 
rived  in  New  York  safely,  and  would  be  at  the 
village  on  the  5  P.  M.  train. 


400  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  O  I  am  so  glad ! "  cried  Annie ;  "  never  was  he  so 
needed  before." 

And  yet  there  was  a  remorseful  twinge  at  her  heart 
as  she  thought  of  Gregory.  But  she  felt  sure  of 
reconciliation  now,  for  would  not  Hunting  overwhelm 
her  preserver  with  gratitude,  and  forgive  everything 
in  the  past  ? 

She  said  to  Jeff,  "  Have  Dolly  and  the  low  buggy 
ready  for  me  at  half-past  four." 

Her  father  seemed  peculiarly  glad  when  he  heard 
that  his  relative,  the  man  he  hoped  would  soon  be 
his  son,  was  coming. 

"  It's  all  turning  out  for  the  best,"  he  said, 
softly. 

The  hour  soon  came,  for  it  was  already  late,  and  An 
nie  slipped  away,  leaving  both  her  father  and  Gregory 
sleeping.  To  her  great  joy  Hunting  stepped  down 
from  the  train  and  was  quickly  seated  by  her  side. 
As  they  drove  away  in  the  dusk  he  could  not  forbear 
a  rapturous  kiss  and  embrace  which  she  did  not  re 
sist. 

"  O  Charles,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come — so  very 
glad !  "  she  exclaimed  almost  breathlessly ;  "  and  I've 
so  much  to  tell  you  that  I  hardly  know  where  to 
begin.  How  good  God  is  to  send  you  to  me  now, 
just  when  I  need  you  most !  " 

"So  you  find  that  you  can't  do  without  me  alto- 
gether?  That's  grand  news.  How  I've  longed  for 
this  hour !  If  I'd  had  my  own  way  I  would  have 
exploded  the  boilers  in  my  haste  to  reach  port  to  see 
you  again.  It  was  real  good  of  you  to  come,  and  not 


WffA  T  A  LOVER  COULD  DO.  4°* 

send  for  me.  Come,  Annie,  celebrate  my  return  by 
the  promise  that  you  will  soon  make  a  home  for  me. 
1  am  happy  to  say  that  I  can  now  give  you  the  means 
of  making  it  a  princely  one." 

"  I  haven't  the  time  nor  the  heart  to  think  about 
that  now,  Charles.  Father  is  very  ill.  I'm  exceed 
ingly  anxious  about  him." 

"Indeed!"  said  Hunting,  "that  is  bad  news;" 
and  yet  his  grief  was  not  very  deep,  for  he  thought, 
"  If  she  is  left  alone  she  will  come  to  me  at  once." 

"  What  is  more,"  cried  Annie,  a  little  hurt  at  the 
quiet  manner  in  which  he  received  her  tidings,  "  sup. 
pose,  instead  of  meeting  me  strong  and  well,  you 
had  found  me  a  crushed  and  lifeless  corpse  to 
night?" 

"  Annie,"  he  said,  "what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  this  would  have  been  true  but  for  one 
with  whom  I  am  sorry  you  are  on  bad  terms.  Walter 
Gregory  is  at  our  house." 

He  gave  a  great  start  at  the  mention  of  this  name, 
and  even  in  the  deep  twilight  his  face  seemed  very 
white. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  he  almost  gasped. 

"  I  knew  you  would  be  deeply  affected,"  said  the 
unsuspicious  Annie.  "  He  stood  between  me  and 
death  to-day,  and  it  may  cost  him  his  own  life.  He 
was  severely  injured, — how  badly  we  can  hardly  tell 
yet ;  "  and  she  rapidly  related  all  that  had  occurred. 
"And  now,  Charles,"  she  concluded,  "no  matter 
what  he  may  have  done,  or  how  deeply  he  may  have 
wronged  you,  I'm  sure  you'll  do  everything  in  your 


402  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

power  to  effect  a  complete  reconciliation,  and  cement 
a  lasting  friendship.  If  possible,  you  must  become 
his  untiring  nurse.  How  much  you  owe  him  !  " 

She  noticed  that  he  was  trembling.  After  a  moment 
he  asked,  hesitatingly,  "  Has  he — how  long  has  he 
been  here,  did  you  say?" 

"  About  three  weeks.  You  know  our  place  was 
his  old  home,  and  his  father  was  a  very  dear  friend 
of  my  father." 

"  If  I  knew  it  I  had  forgotten  it,"  he  answered, 
with  a  chill  of  fear  growing  deeper  every  moment. 
"Did  he — has  he  said  anything  about  our  diffi 
culties?" 

"  Nothing  definite,"  said  she,  a  little  wonderingly 
at  Hunting's  manner.  "  Father  happened  to  men 
tion  your  name  the  first  evening  of  his  arrival,  and 
the  bitter  enmity  that  came  out  upon  his  face  quite 
startled  me.  You  know  well  that  I  wouldn't  hear  a 
word  against  you.  He  once  commenced  saying 
something  to  your  prejudice,  but  I  stopped  him  and 
said  I  would  neither  listen  to  nor  believe  him, — that 
he  did  not  know  you,  and  was  entirely  mistaken  in 
his  judgment.  It  was  evident  to  us  that  Mr.  Gregory 
was  not  a  good  man.  Indeed,  he  made  no  pretence 
of  being  one ;  but  he  has  changed  since,  as  you  can 
well  understand,  or  he  couldn't  have  sacrificed  him 
self  as  he  has  to-day.  I  told  father  that  I  thought 
the  cause  of  your  trouble  arose  from  your  trying  to 
restrain  him  in  some  of  his  fast  ways,  but  he  thought 
it  resulted  from  business  relations." 

"  You  were  both  right,"  said  Hunting,  slowly,  as  if 


WHAT  A  LOVER  COULD  D0.\  403 

he  were  feeling  his  way  along.  "  He  was  inclined  to 
be  very  dissipated,  and  I  used  to  remonstrate  with  him ; 
but  the  immediate  cause  was  a  business  difficulty. 
He  would  have  kept  me  out  of  a  great  deal  of  money 
if  he  could." 

His  words  were  literally  true,  but  they  gave  an 
utterly  false  impression.  Annie  was  satisfied,  how 
ever.  It  seemed  a  natural  explanation,  and  she 
trusted  Hunting  implicitly.  Indeed,  with  her  nature, 
love  could  scarcely  exist  without  trust. 

"That's  all  past  now,"  said  Annie,  eagerly.  "You 
surely  will  not  let  it  weigh  with  you  a  moment.  In 
deed,  Charles,  I  shall  expect  you  to  do  every 
thing  in  your  power  to  make  that  man  your  friend." 

"O,  certainly,  I  could  not  act  otherwise,"  he  said, 
rather  absently.  He  was  scheming  with  desperate 
earnestness  to  meet  and  avert  the  impending  dan 
gers.  Annie's  frank  and  cordial  reception  showed 
him  that  so  far  as  she  was  concerned  he  was  as  yet 
safe.  But  he  knew  her  well  enough  to  feel  sure  that 
if  she  detected  falsehood  in  him  his  case  would  be 
nearly  hopeless.  He  recognized  that  he  was  walk 
ing  on  a  mine  that  at  any  moment  might  be  sprung. 
With  his  whole  soul  he  loved  Annie  Walton,  and  it 
would  be  worse  than  death  to  lose  her.  The  thought 
of  her  had  made  every  gross  temptation  fall  harm 
less  at  his  feet,  and  even  his  insatiate  love  of  wealth 
had  been  mingled  with  the  dearer  hope  that  it  would 
eventually  minister  to  her  happiness.  But  he  had 
lived  so  long  in  the  atmosphere  of  Wall  Street  that 
his  ideas  of  commercial  integrity  had  become  ex- 


404  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

ceedingly  blurred.  When  a  questionable  course 
opened  by  which  he  could  make  money,  he  could  not 
resist  the  temptation.  He  tried  to  satisfy  himself 
that  business  required  such  action,  and  called  his 
sharp  practice  by  the  fine  names  of  skill,  sagacity. 
But  when  on  his  visits  to  Annie,  which,  of  late, 
during  the  worst  of  his  transactions,  had  been  frequent 
rather  than  prolonged,  he  had  had  a  growing  sense 
of  humiliation  and  fear.  He  saw  that  she  could 
never  be  made  to  look  upon  his  affair  with  Burnett 
&  Co.  as  he  regarded  it,  and  that  her  father  was  the 
soul  of  commercial  honor.  Though  Mr.  Walton's 
fortune  was  moderate,  not  a  penny  had  come  to  him 
stained.  After  these  visits  Hunting  would  go  back 
to  the  city,  resolved  to  quit  everything  illegitimate 
and  become  in  his  business  and  other  relations  just 
what  he  seemed  to  them.  But  some  glittering 
temptation  would  assail  him.  He  would  make  one 
more  adroit  shuffle  of  the  cards,  and  then,  from 
being  hollow,  would  become  morally  and  religiously 
sound  at  once. 

During  his  voyage  home,  there  was  time  fc* 
thought.  A  severe  gale,  while  lashing  the  sea  into 
threatening  waves,  had  also  disturbed  his  guilty  con 
science.  He  had  amassed  sufficient  to  satisfy  even 
his  greed  of  gold  for  the  present,  and  his  calculating 
soul  hinted  that  it  was  time  to  begin  to  put  away  a 
little  stock  in  heaven  as  well  as  on  earth.  He  re 
solved  that  he  would  withdraw  from  the  whirlpool  of 
Wall  Street  speculation  and  engage  in  only  legiti 
mate  operations.  Moreover,  he  began  to  long  for 


WHA  T  A  LOVER  COULD  DO.  405 

the  refuge  and  more  quiet  joys  of  home,  and  he  felt, 
as  did  poor  Gregory,  that  Annie  of  all  women  could 
do  most  to  make  him  happy  here  and  fit  him  for  the 
future  life.  Therefore  he  had  returned  with  the 
purpose  of  pressing  his  suit  for  a  speedy  marriage  as 
strongly  as  a  safe  policy  would  permit. 

The  bright  October  day  of  his  arrival  in  New  York 
seemed  emblematic  of  his  hopes  and  prospects,  and 
now  again  the  deepening  night,  the  rising  wind,  and 
the  wildly  hurrying  clouds  but  mirrored  back  him 
self. 

His  safest  and  wisest  course  would  have  been  to 
make  an  honest  confession  to  Annie  of  the  wrong  he 
had  done  Gregory.  As  his  mind  recovered  from  its 
first  confusion  this  thought  occurred  to  him.  But  he 
had  already  given  her  the  impression  that  he  had  re 
ceived  the  wrong,  or  rather  that  it  had  been  attempted 
against  him.  Moreover,  by  any  truthful  confession 
he  would  stand  convicted  of  deceiving  and  swindling 
Burnett  &  Co.  He  justly  feared  that  Annie  would 
break  with  him  the  moment  she  learned  this.  So 
like  all  schemers,  he  temporized,  and  left  his 
course  open  to  be  decided  by  circumstances  rather 
than  principle. 

His  first  course  was  to  learn  of  Annie  all  that  he 
could  concerning  Gregory  and  his  visit,  so  that  he 
might  act  in  view  of  the  fullest  knowledge  possible. 
She  told  him  frankly  what  had  occurred,  so  far  as 
time  permitted  during  their  ride  home.  But  of 
Gregory's  love  she  did  not  speak,  and  was  perplexed 
as  to  her  proper  course.  Loyalty  to  her  lover  seemed 


406  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

to  require  that  he  should  know  all,  and  yet  she  was 
sure  that  Gregory  would  not  wish  her  to  speak  of  it, 
and  she  owed  so  much  to  him  that  she  felt  she  could 
not  do  what  was  contrary  to  his  wishes.  But  Hunt 
ing  well  surmised  that,  whether  Annie  knew  it  or  not, 
Gregory  could  not  have  been  in  her  society  three 
weeks  and  go  away  an  indifferent  stranger. 

"  Jeff  can  give  me  more  light,"  he  thought. 

Conscious  of  deceit  himself,  he  distrusted  every 
one,  even  crystal-souled  Annie- 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

DEEPENING   SHADOWS. 

MR.  WALTON  received  Hunting  in  a  fatherly  way. 
Indeed,  he  looked  upon  the  young  man  as  a 
son, and  the  thought  of  leaving  Annie  to  his  protection 
was  an  unspeakable  comfort. 

Altogether  Hunting  was  reassured  by  his  recep 
tion,  which  proved  that  his  relations  were  as  yet  urt 
disturbed.  But  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  he  trembled 
at  the  presence  of  Gregory  in  the  house  ;  and  when 
Miss  Eulie  came  down  and  said,  after  an  affectionate 
greeting,  that  Gregory  was  in  something  like  a  stupor, 
he  was  even  base  enough  to  wish  that  he  might 
never  come  out  of  it. 

At  the  word  "stupor,"  Annie's  face  grew  pale. 
She  had  a  growing  dissatisfaction  with  Hunting's 
manner  in  regard  to  Gregory,  and  felt  that  he  did 
not  feel  or  show  the  interest  or  gratitude  that  he 
ought ;  but  there  was  nothing  tangible  with  which 
she  could  tax  him. 

The  doctor,  who  came  early  in  the  evening,  re 
assured  her,  and  said  that  the  state  of  partial  con 
sciousness  was  not  necessarily  a  dangerous  symptom, 
as  it  might  be  the  result  of  a  severe  shock.  The 
young  man  he  brought  was  installed  as  nurse  undei 


408  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Miss  Eulie's  charge,  and  Annie  said  that  Mr.  Hunt 
ing  would  also  take  his  turn  as  watcher. 

Then  she,  Mr.  Hunting,  and  her  father  had  along 
talk  over  what  had  happened  in  his  absence,  Mr. 
Walton  dwelling  most  feelingly  on  what  he  regarded 
as  the  providential  character  of  the  visit  from  the 
son  of  his  old  friend. 

"  If  he  never  leaves  our  house  alive,  I  have  a 
strong  assurance  that  he  will  join  his  father  in  the 
better  home.  Indeed,  I  may  soon  be  there  with 
them/' 

"  Please  don't  talk  so,  father,"  pleaded  Annie. 

"  Well,  my  child,  perhaps  it's  best  I  should,  and 
prepare  your  minds  for  what  may  be  near.  It's  a 
great  consolation  to  see  Charles  again,  and  he  will 
help  you  bear  whatever  is  God's  will." 

"You  can  trust  her  to  me,"  said  Hunting,  fer 
vently.  "  I  have  ample  means  to  gratify  her  most 
extravagant  wish,  and  my  love  will  shelter  her  and 
think  for  her  even  as  yours  would.  But  I  trust  you 
will  soon  share  our  home  with  us." 

*  I  expect  to,  my  children,  but  it  will  be  our  eter 
nal  home." 

Annie  strove  bravely  to  keep  her  tears  back,  for 
her  father's  sake,  but  they  would  come. 

"  Annie,"  said  Hunting,  "  won't  you  please  let  your 
father  put  this  ring  on  your  engagement  finger  ? " 
and  he  gave  Mr.  Walton  a  magnificent  solitaire  dia* 
mond. 

Mr.  Walton  took  his  daughter's  hand,  and  looked 
earnestly  into  her  tearful,  blushing  face. 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  409 

"Annie,"  he  said,  in  a  grave,  sweet  tone,  "  I  hope 
for  your  sake  that  I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  have  a  pre 
sentiment  that  my  pilgrimage  is  nearly  ended.  You 
have  made  its  last  stage  very  happy.  A  good  daughter 
makes  a  good  wife,  Mr.  Hunting ;  and,  Annie  dear, 
I  shall  tell  your  mother  that  you  supplied  her  place, 
as  far  as  a  daughter  could.  It  will  add  greatly  to 
my  peace  if  I  can  leave  you  and  my  sister,  and  the 
dear  little  ones,  under  the  care  of  one  so  competent 
to  protect  and  provide  for  you  all.  Mr.  Hunting,  do 
you  feel  that  you  can  take  them  to  your  home  and 
heart,  with  my  daughter?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Hunting.  "  I  had  no  other 
thought ;  and  Annie's  will  shall  be  supreme  in  her 
future  home." 

"  But,  after  all,  the  chief  question  is,  does  this  ring 
join  your  hearts?  I'm  sure  I'm  right  in  thinking  so, 
Annie?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

Slowly,  with  his  feeble,  trembling  hands  he  put  the 
flashing  gem  on  Annie's  ringer,  and  then  placed  her 
hand  in  Hunting's,  and,  looking  solemnly  to  heaven, 
said,  "  May  God  bless  this  betrothal  as  your  father 
blesses  it." 

Hunting  stooped  and  kissed  her  hand  and  then 
her  lips.  With  mingled  truth  and  policy,  he  said, 
"  This  ceremony  is  more  solemn  and  binding  to 
me  than  the  one  yet  to  come  at  the  altar." 

Annie  was  happy  in  her  engagement.  It  was  what 
she  expected,  and  had  been  consummated  in  a  way 
that  seemed  peculiarly  sweet  and  sacred  ;  and  yet  her 


410  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

thoughts,  with  a  remorseful  tinge,  would  keep  recur- 
ring  to  the  man  who  even  then  might  be  dying  for 
her  sake. 

After  they  had  sat  a  little  while  in  silence,  which 
is  often  the  best  expression  of  deep  feeling,  she  sud 
denly  said,  with  an  involuntary  sigh,  "  Poor  Mr. 
Gregory  !  I'm  so  sorry  for  him  !  " 

Thus  Hunting  knew  where  her  thoughts  were,  and 
instantly  the  purpose  formed  itself  in  his  mind  to 
induce  her  through  her  father  to  consent  to  an  imme 
diate  marriage.  He  saw  more  plainly  than  Annie 
the  great  change  in  her  father,  and  based  his  hope 
on  the  fact  that  the  parent  might  naturally  wish  to 
give  his  child  a  legal  protector  before  he  passed  away. 

Mr.  Walton  now  showed  such  signs  of  weariness 
that  they  left  him  in  Miss  Eulie's  care,  who  seemed 
to  flit  like  a  ministering  spirit  between  the  two 
patients. 

After  the  great  excitement  of  the  day,  Annie,  too, 
was  very  weary,  and  soon  the  household  sought  such 
rest  as  was  possible  with  two  of  its  inmates  appar 
ently  very  near  the  boundaries  that  separate  the 
known  world  from  the  unknown.  Glimmering  all 
night  long,  like  signals  of  distress  at  sea,  the  faint 
lights  of  the  watchers  reminded  late  passers-by  of 
the  perilous  nature  of  earthly  voyaging. 

Annie  had  gone  with  Miss  Eulie  to  take  a  parting 
look  at  Gregory.  She  bent  over  him  and  said,  "  Mr. 
Gregory,"  but  his  spirit  seemed  to  have  sunk  into 
such  far  depths  that  even  her  voice  could  not  summon 
him. 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  411 

"  Oh,  if  he  should  die  now !  "  she  moaned,  shudder- 
ingly,  and  on  the  night  of  her  engagement  sobbed 
herself  to  sleep. 

The  next  morning  saw  little  change  in  the  patients, 
save  that  Mr.  Walton  was  evidently  weaker.  Miss 
Eulie  said  that  Gregory  had  roused  up  during  the 
night  and  seemed  perfectly  conscious.  He  had  in 
quired  after  Mr.  Walton  and  Annie,  but  toward 
morning  had  fallen  into  his  old  lethargy. 

After  breakfast  Annie  took  Hunting  up  to  see 
him,  but  was  pained  at  the  darkening  of  her  lover's 
face  as  he  looked  at  the  prostrate  and  unconscious 
man.  She  could  not  understand  it.  He  seemed  to 
have  no  wish  to  remain.  She  felt  almost  indignant, 
and  yet  what  could  she  say  more  than  she  had  said  ? 
•Gregory's  condition,  and  the  cause,  should  naturally 
plead  for  him  beyond  all  words. 

Annie  spent  most  of  the  day  with  her  father,  and 
purposed  watching  with  him  that  night.  The  doctor 
came  and  reported  more  favorably  of  Gregory,  but 
said  that  everything  depended  upon  his  being  quiet. 
Annie  purposed  that  Hunting  should  commence  the 
duties  of  watcher  as  soon  as  possible.  Therefore  she 
told  her  aunt  to  tell  Gregory,  as  soon  as  she  thought 
it  would  answer,  that  Hunting  had  arrived.  In  the 
afternoon,  Gregory  seemed  to  come  out  of  his  lethargy 
more  decidedly  than  he  had  before,  and  took  some 
nourishment  with  marked  relish.  Then  he  lay  quietly 
looking  at  the  fire. 

"  Do  you  feel  better  now  ? "  Miss  Eulie  asked, 
gently. 


412  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  he  answered,  wearily. 
"  I  have  a  numb,  strange  feeling." 

"Would  you  like  to  see  Miss  Walton  ?  " 

"  No,  not  now ;  I  am  satisfied  to  know  she  is  well." 

"  She  wished  me  to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Hunting  had 
arrived." 

He  turned  away  his  face  with  a  deep  scowl,  but 
said  nothing. 

After  some  time  she  came  to  his  side  and  said, 
"  Is  there  anything  you  would  like  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  he  replied,  gently.  "  I  appreciate  your 
great  kindness." 

Miss  Eulie  sighed  and  left  the  room,  feeling  dimly 
that  there  were  internal  injuries  after  all,  but  such  as 
were  beyond  the  doctor's  skill. 

Annie  echoed  her  sigh  when  she  heard  how  he 
received  Miss  Eulie's  information.  She  determined 
to  prepare  and  take  him  his  supper. 

When  she  noiselessly  entered,  he  was  again  look 
ing  fixedly  at  the  fire.  But  she  had  not  advanced 
far  into  the  room  before  he  recognized  her  step  and 
looked  up  quickly. 

"  See,"  she  said,  cheerily,  coming  to  his  side, 
"  I've  prepared  and  brought  you  this  supper  with  my 
own  hands,  and  shall  expect  in  return  that  you  com- 
pliment  it  highly.  Now,  isn't  it  a  good  supper  ?  " 
she  asked,  holding  it  before  him. 

But  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  glittering  and  signifi 
cant  ring,  whose  meaning  he  too  well  understood. 
With  an  expression  of  intense  pain  he  turned  his  face 
to  the  wall  without  a  word. 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  4*3 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  pleaded  Annie,  "  I  never  thought 
you  would  turn  away  from  me." 

"  Not  from  you,  not  from  you,"  he  said,  in  alow 
tone  ;  "  but  I'm  very  weak,  and  the  light  of  that  dia 
mond  is  too  strong  for  me  yet." 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  deep  reproach ; 
:<  I  did  not  think." 

"  No,  forgive  me.  Please  leave  me  now,  and  re- 
member  in  chanty  how  weak  I  am." 

She  put  the  tray  down  and  hastened  from  the  room. 
He  ate  no  supper  that  night,  neither  did  she.  Hunt 
ing  watched  her  gloomily,  with  both  fear  and  jealousy 
at  heart.  The  latter,  however,  was  groundless,  for 
Annie's  feeling  was  only  that  of  profound  sorrow  for 
something  she  could  not  help.  But  lack  of  strongly 
manifested  interest  and  sympathy  for  Gregory  in- 
jured  him  in  her  estimation  ;  for  woman-like  she 
unconsciously  took  the  side  of  the  one  he  wronged. 
She  could  understand  Gregory's  enmity,  but  it 
seemed  to  her  that  Hunting  should  be  full  of  gener 
ous  enthusiasm  for  one  who  was  suffering  so  much 
in  her  behalf. 

"  Men  are  so  strange ! "  she  said,  half-vexedly. 
"They  fall  in  love  without  the  slightest  provocation, 
mid  hate  each  other  forever,  when  a  woman  would 
have  sharp  words  and  be  over  with  it.  They  never 
do  what  you  would  naturally  expect." 

During  the  day  Hunting  had  found  time  to  see 
Jeff  alone,  but  had  found  him  inclined  to  be  sullen 
and  uncommunicative.  Jeff  had  changed  sides,  and 
was  now  an  ardent  adherent  of  Gregory's,  who  had 


414  OPENING  /I  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

given  him  five  dollars  without  imposing  any  condi 
tions  ;  and  then,  w'hat  was  of  far  greater  import,  had 
saved  the  house  and  Annie's  life,  and,  according  to 
Jeff's  simple  views  of  equity,  he  ought  to  have  both. 
And  yet  a  certain  rude  element  of  honesty  made  him 
feel  that  he  had  made  a  bargain  with  Hunting,  and 
that  he  must  fulfil  his  part  and  then  they  would  be 
quits.  But  he  was  not  disposed  to  do  it  with  a  very 
good  grace.  So  when  Hunting  said,  "  Well,  Jeff,  I  sup 
pose  you've  seen  a  good  deal  since  I  was  last  here." 

"Yes,  I've  seen  a  mighty  lot,"  said  Jeff,  senten- 
tiously. 

"  Well,  Jeff,  you  remember  our  agreement.  What 
did  you  see?  Only  the  truth  now." 

"  Sartin,  sah,  only  de  truf.  Fse  belong  to  de  Wal 
ton  family,  and  yous  doesn't  get  nothin'  but  de  truf 
from  dem." 

"  All  right,  Jeff;  I'm  glad  your  employers  have  so 
good  an  influence  on  you.  Well?" 

"I'se  seen  Misser  Gregory  on  de  roof,"  said  Jeff, 
drawing  on  his  imagination,  as  he  had  only  heard 
about  that  event  through  Zibbie's  highly  colored 
story,  "  where  some  other  folks  wouldn't  dar  go,  and 
now  I'se  see  dat  house  dar,  which  I  wouldn't  see  dar, 
wasn't  it  for  Misser  Gregory." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Hunting,  impatiently,  "I've 
heard  all  about  that.  What  else  ?  " 

"  Fse  seen  Miss  Annie  roun'  all  day  bloomin'  and 
sweet  as  a  rose,  and  I'se  seen  how  she  might  have  been 
a  crushed  white  lily,"  Jeff  continued,  solemnly,  with 
a  rhetorical  wave  of  the  hand. 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  415 

There  existed  in  Jeff  the  raw  material  of  a  colored 
preacher,  only  it  was  very  crude  and  undeveloped. 
But  upon  any  important  occasion  he  always  grew 
rhetorical  and  figurative  in  his  language. 

"Come,  come,  Jeff,  tell  me  something  new." 

"  Well,"  said  Jeff,  "  since  I'se  promised  to  tell  you, 
and  since  Fse  spent  de  ten  dollars,  and  hasn't  got  it 
to  give  you  back  again,  I'se  seen  Misser  Gregory  las' 
Sunday  evenin',  a  kneelin'  afore  Miss  Annie  as  if  he 
was  a  sayin'  his  prayers  to  her,  and  I  shouldn't  won 
der  if  she  heard  'em  (with  a  chuckle)  ;  anyhow  she 
wasn't  lofty  and  scornful,  and  Misser  Gregory  he's 
looked  kinder  glorified  ever  since ;  afore  that  he 
looked  glum,  and  Miss  Annie,  she's  been  kinder 
bendin'  toward  him  since  dat  evenin',  like  a  rosebud 
wid  de  dew  on  it." 

Hunting's  face  darkened  with  suppressed  anger  and 
jealousy.  After  a  moment  he  said,  "  Is  that  all  ?" 

"  Dat's  all." 

"  Well,  Jeff,  here's  ten  dollars  more,  and  look 
sharper  than  ever  now." 

"  'Scuse  me,  Misser  Hunting.  We'se  squar*  now. 
I'se  done  what  I  agreed,  and  now  I'se  gwine  out  ob 
de  business." 

"  Has  Gregory  engaged  your  services  ? "  asked 
Hunting,  quickly. 

"  No,  sah,  he  hab  not.  I  reckon  Misser  Gregory 
tink  he  doesn't  need  any  help." 

"Why  won't  you  do  as  I  wish,  then  ?  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hunting,  it  kinder  makes  me  feel  bad 
here,"  said  Jeff,  rubbing  his  hand  indefinitely  over 


416  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

several  physical  organs.  "  I  don't  jes'  believe  Miss 
Annie  would  like  it,  and  after  seein'  Mr.  Gregory 
under  dat  pesky  ladder,  I  couldn't  do  nothin'  dat  he 
wouldn't  like.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  him  I'd  sorter 
felt  as  if  I'd  killed  Miss  Annie  by  leavin'  dat  dog- 
goned  ladder  so  straight  up,  and  I  nebber  could  hab 
gone  out  in  de  dark  agin  all  my  life." 

"Why,  you  old  black  fool,"  said  Hunting,  irritably, 
"  don't  you  know  I'm  going  to  marry  Miss  Annie  ? 
You'd  better  keep  on  the  right  side  of  me." 

"  Which  is  de  right  side  ?  "  Jeff  could  not  forbear 
saying,  with  a  suppressed  chuckle. 

"  Come,  sir,  no  impudence.  You  won't  serve  me 
any  more  then  ?  " 

"  O  yes,  Misser  Hunting.  I'se  black  yer  boots, 
make  de  fire,  harness  de  hoss,  do  anything  dat  won't 
hurt  in  here,"  with  a  gesture  that  seemed  to  indicate 
the  pit  of  his  stomach.  "Anything  more,  please 
'scuse  me." 

"  You  will  not  speak  of  what  has  passed  between 
us?' 

"  Fse  given  my  word,"  said  Jeff,  drawing  himself 
up,  "  de  word  ob  one  dat  belongs  to  de  Waltons." 

Hunting  turned  on  his  heel  and  strode  away. 
Annie  had  given  one  aspect  to  the  scene  on  that 
Sabbath  evening,  and  Jeff  had  innocently  given 
another.  Hunting  was  not  loyal  enough  even  to 
such  a  woman  as  Annie  to  believe  her  implicitly. 
But  it  is  the  curse  of  conscious  deceit  to  breed  sus 
picion.  Only  the  true  can  have  absolute  faith  in  the 
truth  of  others.  Moreover,  Hunting,  in  his  hidden 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  417 

selfishness  and  worldliness  could  not  understand 
Annie's  ardent  effort  to  save  a  fellow-creature  from 
sin.  Skilled  in  the  subtle  impulses  of  the  heart,  he 
believed  that  Annie,  unconsciously  even  to  herself, 
was  drifting  toward  the  man  he  hated  all  the  more 
because  he  had  wronged  him,  while  the  danger  of 
his  presence  made  him  almost  vindictive.  Yet  he 
realized  the  necessity  of  disguising  his  feelings,  for 
if  Annie  discovered  them  he  might  well  dread  the 
consequence.  But  the  idea  of  watching  alone  with 
Gregory  was  revolting.  It  suggested  dark  thoughts 
which  he  tried  to  put  from  him  in  horror,  for  he  was 
far  from  being  a  hardened  villain.  He  was  only  a 
man  who  had  gradually  formed  the  habit  of  acting 
from  expediency  and  self-interest,  instead  of  principle. 
Such  a  rule  of  life  often  places  us  where  expediency 
and  self-interest  require  deeds  that  are  black 
indeed. 

But  he  was  saved  from  the  ordeal  of  spending 
hours  alone  with  a  man  who  even  in  his  helplessness 
might  injure  him  beyond  remedy,  for  on  the  follow 
ing  morning  Annie  again  sought  Gregory's  room 
bent  on  securing  reconciliation  at  once.  She  felt 
that  she  could  endure  this  estrangement  no  longer. 

The  young  man  employed  as  watcher  was  out  at 
the  time. 

Gregory  wras  gazing  at  the  fire  with  the  same  look 
of  listless  apathy.  A  deep  flush  overspread  his 
deathly  pale  face  as  she  came  and  sat  down  beside 
him,  but  he  did  not  turn  from  her. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  said,  very  gently,  "  it  seems 


418  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

that  I  can  do  nothing  but  receive  favors  from  you, 
and  I've  come  now  to  ask  a  great  one/' 

He  suspected  something  concerning  Hunting,  and 
his  face  darkened  forbiddingly.  Though  Annie  noted 
this,  she  would  not  be  denied. 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "  that,  after 
your  sacrifice  for  me,  I  can  ever  cease  to  be  your 
friend  in  the  truest  and  strongest  sense  ?  " 

"  Miss  Walton/'  he  said,  calmly,  "  I've  made  no 
sacrifice  for  you.  The  thought  of  that  episode  in 
the  orchard  is  my  one  comfort  while  lying  here,  and 
will  be  through  what  is  left  of  life.  But  please  do 
not  speak  of  it,  for  it  will  become  a  pain  to  me  if  I 
see  the  obligation  is  a  burden  to  you." 

"  It  is  not,"  she  said,  eagerly.  "  I'm  glad  to  owe 
my  life  to  you.  But  do  you  think  I  can  go  on  my 
way  and  forget  you  ?  " 

"  It's  the  very  best  you  can  do,  Miss  Walton." 

"  But  I  tell  you  it's  impossible.  Thank  God,  it's 
not  my  nature  to  do  it !  " 

He  turned  toward  her  with  a  wistful,  searching 
look. 

"  We  must  carry  out  our  old  agreement,"  con 
tinued  Annie.  "  We  must  be  close  and  lasting 
friends.  You  should  not  blame  me  for  an  attach 
ment  formed  years  ago." 

"  I  do  not  blame  you." 

"  Then  you  should  not  punish  me  so  severely. 
You  first  make  your  friendship  needful  to  me,  and 
then  you  deny  it." 

"  I  am  your  friend,  and  more." 


DEEPENING   SHADOWS.  419 

"  How  can  we  enjoy  a  frank  and  happy  friendship 
through  coming  years,  after — after — you  feel  differ 
ently  from  what  you  do  now,  when  you  will  not  even 
hear  the  name  of  him  who  will  one  day  be  my  second 
self  ?  " 

Again  his  face  darkened ;  but  she  continued 
rapidly,  "  Mr.  Hunting  is  deeply  grateful  to  you,  and 
would  like  to  express  hfs  feelings  in  person.  He 
wishes  to  bury  the  past — " 

*'  He  will,  with  me,  soon,"  interrupted  Gregory, 
gloomily. 

"  No ;  please  do  not  speak  in  that  way/'  she 
pleaded.  "  He  wishes  to  make  what  little  return  he 
can,  and  offers  to  watch  with  you  night  and  day." 

He  turned  upon  her  almost  fiercely,  and  said,  "  Are 
you  too  in  league  with  my  evil  destiny,  in  that  you 
continually  persecute  me  with  that  man  ?  Miss 
Walton,  I  half  doubt  whether  you  know  what  love 
means,  or  you  would  not  make  such  a  proposition. 
Let  me  at  least  die  quietly.  With  the  memory  of 
the  past  and  the  knowledge  of  the  present,  his  pres 
ence  in  my  room  would  be  death  by  torture. 
Pardon  me,  but  let  us  end  this  matter  once  for  alL 
We  have  both  been  unfortunate,  you  in  inspiring  a 
love  that  you  cannot  return ;  I  in  permitting  my 
heart  to  go  from  me,  beyond  recall,  before  learning 
that  my  passion  would  be  hopeless.  I  do  not  see 
that  either  of  us  has  been  to  blame,  you  certainly 
not  in  the  slightest  degree. 

44  But,  however  vain,  my  love  is  an  actual  fact,  and 
I  cannot  act  as  if  it  were  not.  As  well  might  a  man 


420  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

with  a  mortal  wound  smile  and  say  it's  but  a  scratch. 
I  cannot  change  my  mind  merely  in  view  of  expedi 
ency  and  invest  such  feelings  in  another  way.  The 
fact  of  my  love  is  now  a  past  disaster,  and  I  must 
bear  the  consequences  with  such  fortitude  as  I  can. 
But  what  you  ask  would  drive  me  mad.  If  I  should 
live,  possibly  in  the  future  I  might  meet  you  often 
without  the  torturing  regret  I  now  feel.  But  to 
make  a  smiling  member  of  Charles  Hunting's  friendly 
circle  would  require  on  my  part  the  baldest  hypocrisy ; 
and  I  can't  do  it,  and  won't  try.  If  that  man  comes 
into  my  room,  I  will  crawl  out  if  I  can." 

He  was  trembling  with  excitement,  his  face  flushed 
and  feverish,  and  his  eyes  unnaturally  bright. 

"  And  you  banish  me  too,"  said  Annie,  hurt  and 
alarmed  at  the  same  time. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  forgive  me  for  saying  so.  Yes ;  till 
I'm  stronger.  See  how  I've  spoken  to  you.  I've  no 
self-control." 

She  was  most  reluctant  to  go,  and  stood  a  moment, 
hesitating.  Timidly  she  ventured  to  quote  the  line  : 

"  Earth  has  no  sorrows  that  Heaven  cannot  cure." 

"  That's  a  comforting  fact  for  those  who  are  going 
there,"  he  said,  coldly. 

With  a  sudden  burst  of  passionate  grief  she  stooped 
and  kissed  his  hand,  then  fled  to  her  own  room, 
and  cried  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  It  seemed  as 
if  he  were  lost  to  her  and  heaven,  and  yet  he  was 
capable  of  being  so  noble  and  good  ! 

Miss  Eulie  entered  Gregory's  room  soon  after,  and 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  421 

was  alarmed  at  his  feverish  and  excited  appearance. 
She  decided  that  Annie's  visits  must  cease  for  the 
present.  However,  she  took  no  apparent  notice  of 
his  disturbed  condition,  but  immediately  gave  a 
remedy  to  ward  off  fever,  and  a  strong  opiate,  which, 
with  the  reaction  and  his  weakness,  caused  him  to 
sink  back  into  something  like  his  old  lethargy. 

Hunting  had  spent  the  morning  with  Mr.  Walton, 
preparing  his  mind  for  the  plan  of  immediate  mar 
riage.  He  found  the  failing  man  not  averse  to  the 
project,  as  his  love  ought  to  secure  to  Annie  every 
help  and  solace  possible. 

After  Annie  had  removed  from  her  face,  to  the 
best  of  her  ability,  every  trace  of  her  emotion,  she 
came  down  and  took  her  place  at  her  father's  side, 
intending  to  leave  it  only  when  compelled  to.  Hunt 
ing  knew  of  her  mission  to  Gregory,  and  looked  at 
her  inquiringly,  but  she  sadly  shook  her  head.  He 
tried  to  look  hurt,  but  only  succeeded  in  looking 
angry.  He  soon  controlled  himself,  however,  though 
he  noted  with  deep  uneasiness  Annie's  sad  face  and 
red  eyes.  Mr.  Walton  fortunately  was  dozing  and 
needed  no  explanation. 

That  night  he  was  much  worse,  and  had  some 
very  serious  symptoms.  Annie  did  not  leave  his 
side.  But  toward  morning  he  rallied  and  fell  into 
a  quiet  sleep.  Then  she  took  a  little  rest. 

The  next  day  she  was  told  that  there  was  a  gen 
tleman  in  the  parlor  who  wished  to  see  her.  The 
stranger  proved  to  be  one  of  Gregory's  partners, 
Mr.  Seymour,  who  courteously  said,  "I  should  have 


422  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

been  here  before,  but  the  senior  partner,  Mr.  Burnett, 
is  unable  to  attend  to  business  at  present,  and  I  came 
away  the  first  moment  I  could  leave.  I  felt  sure  also 
that  everything  would  be  done  that  could  be.  I  hope 
the  injury  is  not  so  serious  as  was  first  supposed." 

"  You  may  rest  assured  that  we  have  tried  to  do 
everything,"  said  Annie,  gravely,  "  but  Mr.  Gregory 
is  in  a  very  precarious  condition.  You  would  like 
to  see  him,  I  suppose." 

"  If  I  can  with  safety  to  him." 

"  I  think  a  brief  interview  may  do  him  good.  He 
needs  rallying." 

At  that  moment  Hunting,  not  knowing  who  was 
present,  entered.  Both  gentlemen  started,  but  Mr. 
Seymour  gave  no  sign  of  recognition,  nor  did  Hunt 
ing,  though  he  could  not  at  first  hide  a  certain 
degree  of  nervous  agitation. 

Annie  presented  him.  Mr.  Seymour  bowed  stiffly, 
and  said,  rather  curtly,  "  We  have  met  before,"  and 
then  gave  him  no  further  attention,  but  continuing 
to  address  Annie,  said,  "  I  well  understand  that  Mr. 
Gregory  needs  rallying.  That  has  been  just  his 
need  for  the  last  few  months,  during  which  time  his 
health  has  been  steadily  failing.  I  was  in  hopes  he 
would  comeback — "  and  then  he  stopped,  quite  puz 
zled  for  a  moment  by  the  sudden  change  in  Annie's 
manner,  which  had  become  freezingly  cold  toward 
him,  while  there  was  a  look  of  honest  indignation 
upon  her  face. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  she  said,  briefly.  "  I  will  send 
you  my  aunt,  who  will  attend  to  your  wishes ;"  and 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  423 

she  left  Mr.  Seymour  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  both  confused  and  annoyed ;  but  he  at  once 
surmised  that  it  was  on  account  of  his  manner  toward 
Hunting,  who  sat  down  with  a  paper  at  the  farther 
side  of  the  room,  as  if  he  were  alone. 

But  when,  a  moment  later,  Miss  Eulie  entered  with 
her  placid,  unruffled  face,  Mr.  Seymour  could  not  be 
otherwise  than  perfectly  polite,  and  after  a  few  words, 
followed  her  to  Gregory's  room. 

Annie  at  once  came  to  Hunting  and  asked,  "  Why 
did  that  man  act  so  ?  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  see  ?  "  answered  he,  hastily.  "  Mr. 
Seymour  is  Mr.  Gregory's  partner.  They  all  have 
the  same  reason  for  feeling  hostile  toward  me,  though 
perhaps  Gregory  has  special  reasons,"  he  added,  with 
a  searching  look. 

Annie  blushed  deeply  at  this  allusion,  but  said, 
with  emphasis,  "  No  man  shall  treat  you  in  that  way 
in  my  presence  and  still  receive  courtesy  from  me." 

But  his  jealous  spirit  had  noticed  her  quick  blush 
more  than  her  generous  resentment  of  the  insult  she 
supposed  offered  him.  Therefore  he  said,  "  Mr. 
Gregory  would  treat  me  worse  if  he  got  a  chance." 

"  But  his  case  is  different  from  any  one's  else,"  she 
said,  with  another  quick  flush. 

"  Evidently  so  in  your  estimation." 

Then  for  the  first  time  she  noted  his  jealousy,  and 
it  hurt  her  sorely.  She  took  a  step  nearer  and 
looked  very  gravely  into  his  face  for  a  moment  with 
out  speaking,  and  then  said,  with  that  calmness 
which  is  more  effective  than  passion,  "  Charles,  take 


424  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

care.  I'm  one  that  will  be  trusted.  Though  it  seems 
a  light  matter  to  you  that  he  has  saved  my  life,  at 
perhaps  the  cost  of  his  own,  it  does  not  to  me." 

The  cool  and  usually  cautious  man  had  for  once 
lost  his  poise,  and  he  said,  with  sudden  irritation, 
"  I  hear  that  and  nothing  else.  What  else  could  he 
have  done  ?  If  you  had  stayed  at  your  father's  side 
you  would  have  been  safe.  He  took  you  out  to 
walk,  and  any  man  would  have  risked  his  life  to 
bring  you  back  safely." 

He  now  saw  in  Annie  a  spirit  he  could  never  con 
trol  as  he  managed  people  in  Wall  Street,  for,  with 
a  sudden  flash  in  her  eyes,  she  said,  hotly,  "  I  do  not 
reason  thus  coldly  about  those  to  whom  I  owe  so 
much,"  and  abruptly  left  him. 

In  bitterness  of  fear  and  self-reproach  he  at  once 
realized  his  blunder.  He  followed  her,  but  she  was 
with  her  father,  and  he  could  not  speak  there.  He 
looked  imploringly  at  her,  but  could  not  catch  her 
eye,  for  she  was  deeply  incensed.  Had  she  not 
heard  him  she  would  not  have  believed  that  he  could 
be  so  ungenerous. 

He  wrote  on  a  scrap  of  paper,  "  Annie,  forgive  me. 
I  humbly  ask  your  pardon.  I'm  not  myself  to-day, 
and  that  man's  conduct,  which  you  so  nobly  resented 
in  my  behalf,  vexed  me  to  that  degree  that  I  acted 
like  a  fool.  I  am  not  worthy  of  you,  but  you  will 
perceive  that  my  folly  arises  from  my  excess  of  love 
for  you.  I'm  going  for  a  walk.  Please  greet  me 
with  pardon  in  your  face  on  my  return." 

Impulsive,  loving,  warm-hearted  Annie  could  not 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  425 

resist  such  an  appeal.  She  at  once  relented,  and 
began  to  make  a  thousand  better  excuses  for  her 
lover  than  he  could  for  himself.  But  she  had  taught 
him  a  lesson,  and  proved  that  she  was  not  a  weak, 
willowy  creature  that  would  cling  to  him  no  matter 
what  he  was  or  did.  He  saw  that  he  must  seem  to 
be  worthy  of  her. 

Gregory  greeted  his  partner  with  a  momentary 
glow  of  gratitude  that  he  had  come  so  far  to  see 
him,  and  began  talking  about  his  business. 

"  Not  a  word  of  that,  old  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Sey 
mour.  "  Your  business  is  to  get  well.  It  seems  to 
me  that  you  have  everything  here  for  comfort, — 
good  medical  attendance,  eh  ?  " 

"Yes  ;  if  anything,  too  much  is  done  for  me." 

"  I  don't  understand  just  how  it  happened." 

Gregory  told  him  briefly. 

"  By  Jove !  this  Miss  Walton  ought  to  be  very 
grateful  to  you." 

"  She  is  too  grateful." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  I  met  that  infernal 
Hunting  down-stairs.  Of  course  I  couldn't  treat 
him  with  politeness,  and  do  you  know  the  little  lady 
spunked  up  about  it  to  that  degree  that  she  almost 
turned  her  back  upon  me  and  left  the  room." 

"Of  course,"  said  Gregory,  coolly,  shielding  his 
secret  by  a  desperate  effort ;  "  they  are  engaged." 

"O,  I  understand  now.  Well,  I  rather  like  hef 
spirit.  Does  she  know  how  accomplished  her  lover 
is  in  Wall  Street?" 

"  No.     Hunting  is  a  distant  relative  of  the  family. 


426  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

They  believe  him  to  be  a  gentleman,  and  would  not 
listen  to  a  word  against  him." 

"  But  they  ought  to  know.  He  lied  like  a  scoun 
drel  to  us,  and  in  your  trying  all  summer  to  make 
up  the  losses,  he  has  nearly  been  the  death  of  you. 
I  wouldn't  let  my  daughter  marry  him  though  he 
had  enough  money  to  break  the  street :  and  it  is  a 
pity  that  a  fine  girl,  as  this  Miss  Walton  seems, 
should  throw  herself  away  on  him." 

''Well,  Seymour,  that's  not  our  affair,"  said 
Gregory,  pale  and  faint  from  his  effort  at  self-control. 
*'They  would  listen  to  nothing." 

"  Well,  good-by,  old  fellow.  I  see  it  won't  do  to 
talk  with  you  any  more.  Get  well  as  soon  as  you 
can,  for  we  want  you  wofully  in  town.  Get  well, 
and  carry  off  this  Miss  Walton  yourself.  It  would 
be  a  neat  way  of  turning  the  tables  on  Hunting." 

"  Don't  set  your  heart  on  seeing  me  at  the  office 
again,"  said  Gregory,  feelingly.  "  I  have  a  presen 
timent  that  I  sha'n't  pull  through  this,  and  I  don't 
much  care.  Give  my  kindest  regards  to  Mr.  Burnett, 
and  tell  him  I  shall  think  of  him  to  the  last  as 
among  my  best  friends." 

Seymour  made  a  few  hearty  remonstrances  against 
such  a  state  of  mind,  and  took  his  departure  with 
many  misgivings.  Gregory  relapsed  into  his  old 
dreary  apathy.  Life  had  so  many  certain  ills  that 
upon  the  whole  he  felt  he  would  rather  die.  But  he 
was  too  stunned  and  weak  to  think  much,  save  when 
Annie  came  to  him.  Her  presence  was  always  life, 
but  now  it  was  a  sharp  revival  of  the  consciousness 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  427 

of  his  loss.  Left  to  himself,  his  mind  sank  down 
into  a  sort  of  painless  lethargy,  from  which  he  did 
not  wish  to  be  aroused. 

Mr.  Walton  passed  a  quieter  night,  but  was  clearly 
failing  fast.  He  sent  frequent  messages  of  love  and 
sympathy  to  Gregory,  and  had  an  abiding  faith  that 
all  would  be  well  with  him  in  the  next  life,  if  not  in 
this.  Annie  had  not  the  heart  to  undeceive  him. 
When  he  thought  it  a  little  strange  that  Hunting 
was  not  with  Gregory,  Annie  explained  by  saying 
that  the  doctor  insisted  on  perfect  quiet  of  mind, 
and  the  presence  of  Hunting  might  unpleasantly 
revive  old  memories,  and  so  unduly  excite  him. 

After  the  physician  saw  his  patients  the  following 
morning,  he  looked  grave  and  dissatisfied.  Annie 
followed  him  to  the  door,  and  said,  "  Doctor,  I  don't 
like  the  expression  of  your  face." 

"  Well,  Miss  Annie,"  said  the  doctor,  discontent* 
edly,  "  I've  a  difficult  task  on  my  hands,  in  trying  to 
cure  two  patients  that  make  no  effort  to  live.  Your 
father  seems  homesick  for  heaven,  and  mere  drugs 
can't  rouse  Mr.  Gregory  out  of  his  morbid,  gloomy 
apathy.  I  could  get  him  ashore  if  he  would  strike 
out  for  himself,  but  he  just  floats  down  stream  like 
driftwood.  But  really  I'm  doing  all  that  can  be 
done,  I  think." 

"  I  believe  you  are,"  she  said,  sadly.     "  Good-by." 

'*  O  merciful  God ! "    she  exclaimed  when  alone. 
"  What  shall  I  do — what  shall  I   do  to  save  him  ?  ,       . 
Father's  going  to  heaven  and  mother.     Whece  is  4?/    /// 

going?"  *-"' 

&      & 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

KEPT  FROM   THE   EVIL. 

WITH  the  light  of  the  following  day  Annie  gave 
up  all  hope  of  her  father's  recovery.  He  was 
sinking  fast,  and  conscious  himself  that  death  was 
near.  But  his  end  was  like  the  coming  into  harbor  of 
a  stately  ship  after  a  long,  successful  voyage.  He 
looked  death  in  the  face  with  that  calmness  and 
dignity,  that  serene  certainty  that  it  was  a  change 
for  the  better,  which  Christian  faith  alone  can 
inspire.  His  only  solicitude  was  for  those  he  was 
leaving,  and  yet  he  had  no  deep  anxiety,  for  his 
strong  faith  committed  them  trustingly  to  God. 

Annie  tried  to  feel  resigned,  since  it  was  God's 
will.  But  the  tie  that  bound  her  to  him  was  so 
tender,  so  interwoven  with  every  fibre  of  her  heart, 
that  she  shrunk  with  inexpressible  pain  from  its 
sundering.  She  knew  that  she  was  not  losing  her 
father,  that  the  worst  before  them  was  but  a  brief 
separation,  but  how  could  she,  who  had  lived  so 
many  happy  years  at  his  side,  endure  even  this  ?  It 
seemed  as  if  she  could  not  let  him  go,  and  in  the 
strong,  passionate  yearning  of  her  heart,  she  was 
almost  ready  to  leave  youth,  friends,  lover,  and  all, 
to  go  with  him. 


KEPT  FROM  THE  EVIL.  429 

She  was  one  who  lived  in  her  affections  rather 
than  her  surroundings.  The  latter  would  matter 
little  to  her  could  she  keep  her  heart-treasures.  It 
would  have  touched  the  coldest  to  see  how  she 
clung  to  him  toward  the  last.  All  else  was  forgotten, 
even  Gregory,  who  might  be  dying  also.  The 
instinct  of  nature  was  strong,  and  her  father  was 
first. 

Moreover,  the  relation  between  this  parent  and 
child  was  peculiarly  close,  for  they  were  not  only  in 
perfect  sympathy  in  views,  character,  and  faith,  but 
Annie  had  stepped  to  the  side  of  the  widowed  man 
years  before  and  sought  successfully  to  fill  the  place 
of  one  who  had  reached  home  before  him.  Though 
so  young,  she  had  been  his  companion  and  daily 
friend,  interesting  herself  in  that  which  interested 
him,  and  thus  he  had  been  saved  from  that  terrible 
loneliness  which  often  breaks  the  heart  even  in  the 
midst  of  a  household.  It  was  therefore  with  a  love 
beyond  words  that  his  eyes  rested  most  of  the  time 
on  her  and  followed  her  every  movement. 

She  also  had  a  vague  and  peculiar  dread  in  looking 
forward  to  her  bereavement.  An  anticipating  sense 
of  isolation  and  loneliness  chilled  her  heart. 

Though  she  would  not  openly  admit  it  to  herself, 
Hunting  had  disappointed  her  since  his  return.  She 
did  not  get  from  him  the  support  and  Christian 
sympathy  she  expected.  She  tried  to  excuse  him, 
and  charged  herself  with  being  too  exacting,  and 
yet  the  sense  of  something  wanting  pained  her.  She 
had  hoped  that  in  these  dark  days  he  would  be 


430  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

serene  and  strong,  and  yet  abounding  in  the  tenderest 
sympathy.  She  had  expected  words  of  faith  and 
consolation  that  would  have  sustained  her  spirit, 
fainting  under  a  double  and  peculiar  sorrow.  She 
had  felt  sure  that  before  this  his  just  gratitude,  like 
a  torrent,  would  have  overwhelmed  and  destroyed 
Gregory's  enmity.  But  all  had  turned  out  so  differ 
ently  !  Instead  of  being  a  help,  he  had  almost 
added  to  her  burden  by  his  hostile  feeling  toward 
her  preserver,  which  he  had  not  been  able  to  wholly 
disguise.  Such  a  feeling  on  his  part  seemed  both 
unnatural  and  wrong.  He  professed  himself  ready 
to  do  anything  she  wished  for  Gregory,  but  it  was 
in  a  half-hearted  way,  to  oblige  her,  and  not  for  the 
sake  of  the  injured  man.  When  she  went  to  him 
for  Christian  consolation,  his  words,  though  well- 
chosen,  lacked  heartiness  and  the  satisfying  power 
of  truth. 

Why  this  was  so  can  be  well  understood.  Hunt 
ing  could  nut  give  what  he  did  not  possess.  Oi 
necessity  there  would  be  a  hollow  ring  when  he 
spoke  of  that  which  he  did  not  understand  or  feel. 
During  his  brief  visits,  and  in  his  carefully  written 
letters,  he  could  appear  all  she  wished.  He  could 
honestly  show  his  sincere  love  for  her,  and  there 
was  no  special  opportunity  to  show  anything  else. 
In  her  vivid,  loving  imagination  she  supplied  all 
else,  and  she  believed  that  when  they  were  more 
together,  or  in  affliction,  he  would  reveal  more  dis 
tinctly  his  deeper  and  religious  nature,  for  such  a 
nature  he  professed  to  have  ;  and  his  letters,  which 


JCEP  T  FROM  THE  E  VIL.  43 l 

could  be  written  deliberately,  abounded  in  Christian 
sentiment.  Self-deceived,  he  meant  to  be  honestly 
religious  as  soon  as  he  could  afford  to  give  up  his 
questionable  speculations. 

But  when  a  man  least  expects  it  the  test  and  strain 
will  come,  that  clearly  manifest  the  character  of  his 
moral  stamina.  It  had  now  come  to  Hunting,  and 
though  he  strove  with  all  the  force  and  adroitness  of 
a  resolute  will  and  though  he  was  a  practised  dissem 
bler,  he  was  not  equal  to  the  searching  demands  of 
those  trying  days,  and  steadily  lost  ground.  The  only 
thing  that  kept  him  up  was  his  sincere  love  for 
Annie.  That  was  so  apparent  and  honest  that,  lov 
ing  him  herself,  she  was  able  to  forgive  the  rest. 
But  it  formed  no  small  part  of  her  sorrow  at  that 
dark  time,  that  she  must  lower  her  lofty  ideal  of  her 
lover.  Hunting  and  Gregory  seemed  nearer  together 
morally  than  she  could  have  believed  possible.  Thus 
she  already  had  the  dread  that  she  would  not  be  able 
to  "  look  up  "  to  Hunting  as  she  had  expected,  and 
that  it  would  be  her  mission  to  deepen  and  develop 
his  character  instead  of  "  leaning  "  upon  it. 

It  seemed  strange  to  her  as  she  thought  of  it, 
during  her  long  hours  of  watching,  that  after  all  she 
would  have  to  do  for  Hunting  something  like  what 
poor  Gregory  had  asked  her  to  do  for  him.  She 
prayerfully  purposed  to  do  it,  for  the  idea  of  being 
disloyal  to  her  engagement  never  entered  her  mind. 

"  Unless  men  have  a  Christian  home,  in  which 
their  religious  life  can  be  daily  strengthened  and 
fostered,  they  cannot  be  what  they  ought/'  she  said 


43 2  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

to  herself.  "  In  continual  contact  with  the  world, 
with  nothing  to  counteract,  it's  not  strange  that 
they  act  and  feel  as  they  do." 

Thus  she  was  more  disposed  to  feel  sorry  for  both 
Hunting  and  Gregory  than  to  blame  them.  And 
yet  she  looked  upon  the  two  men  very  differently. 
She  regarded  Hunting  as  a  true  Christian  who 
simply  needed  warming  and  quickening  into  positive 
life,  while  she  thought  of  Gregory  with  only  fear 
and  trembling.  Her  hope  for  the  latte/  was  in  the 
prayers  stored  up  in  his  behalf. 

But  now  upon  this  day  that  would  ever  be  so 
painfully  memorable  she  had  thoughts  only  for  her 
father,  and  nothing  could  tempt  her  from  his  side. 

Hunting  also  saw  that  the  crisis  was  approaching, 
and  made  but  a  formal  semblance  of  a  breakfast. 
He  then  entered  the  sick-room,  and  was  thinking 
how  best  to  broach  the  subject  of  an  immediate 
marriage,  when  a  thumping  of  crutches  was  heard  in 
the  hall. 

Miss  Eulie  entered  and  said  that  Daddy  Tuggar 
had  managed  to  hobble  over,  and  had  set  his  heart 
upon  seeing  his  old  friend. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Walton  ;  "  he  shall  come  in 
at  once." 

"  Caution  him  to  stay  but  a  few  minutes,"  warned 
Annie. 

Miss  Eulie  helped  the  old  man  in,  and  he  sat  down 
by  Mr.  Walton's  side,  with  a  world  of  trouble  on  his 
quaint,  wrinkled  face. 

But  he  said  abruptly,  as  if  he  expected  an  affirma- 


KEPT  FROM  THE  EVIL,  433 

tfve  answer,  "  Yer  gettin'  better  this  mornin' — yer 
on  the  mend  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  kind  old  neighbor,"  said  Mr.  Walton, 
feebly.  "  I  shall  soon  be  well.  It  was  kind  of  you, 
in  your  crippled  state,  to  come  over  to  see  me." 

"Well,  now,"  said  Mr.  Tuggar,  greatly  relieved, 
"  there  is  use  of  prayin'.  I  ain't  much  of  a  hand  at 
it,  and  didn't  know  how  the  Lord  would  take  it  from 
me  ;  but  when  I  heard  you  was  sick,  I  began  to  feel 
like  prayin',  and  when  I  heard  you  was  gettin'  wuss, 
I  couldn't  help  prayin'.  When  I  heard  how  that 
city  chap  as  saved  the  house — (what  an  old  fool  I 
was  to  cuss  him  when  he  first  came !  The  Lord 
knew  what  He  was  doin'  when  He  brought  him 
here) — when  I  heard  how  he  kept  the  ladder  from 
falling  on  Miss  Annie,  I  prayed  right  out  loud.  My 
wife,  she  thought  I  was  gettin'  crazy.  But  I  didn't 
care  what  anybody  thought.  I've  been  prayin'  all 
night,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  Lord  must  hear  me, 
and  I  kinder  felt  it  in  my  bones  that  He  had.  So  I 
expected  to  hear  you  say  you  was  goin'  to  get  well ; 
and  Mr.  Gregory,  he's  better  too, — ain't  he  ?  " 

There  was  no  immediate  answer.  Neither  Miss 
Eulie  nor  Annie  seemed  to  know  how  to  reply  to 
the  old  man  at  first.  But  Mr.  Walton  reached 
slowly  out  and  took  his  neighbor's  hand,  saying, 
"  Your  prayers  will  be  answered,  my  friend.  Honest 
prayer  to  God  always  is.  I  shall  be  well  soon, 
never  to  be  old,  feeble,  and  sick  any  more.  I'm 
going  where  there's  '  no  more  pain/  Perhaps  I've 
seen  my  last  night,  for  there  is  '  no  night  there/  " 


434  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  But  the  Lord  knows  I  didn't  mean  nothin'  of 
that  kind.  We  need  you  here,  and  He  orter  know- 
it.  What's  the  use  of  prayin*  if  you  get  just  the 
opposite  of  what  you  pray  for?  " 

"  Suppose  the  opposite  is  best  ?  I'm  an  old  man, 
— a  shock  of  corn  fully  ripe.  I'm  ready  to  be 
gathered." 

"  Are  yer  goin'  to  die  ?  "  asked  the  old  man,  in  an 
awed  whisper. 

"  No,  Mr.  Tuggar ;  I've  been  growing  old  and 
feeble,  I've  been  dying  for  a  long  time.  Now  I'm 
going  to  live, — to  be  strong  and  well,  forever  and 
ever.  So  don't  grieve,  but  rather  rejoice  with  me." 

The  old  man  sat  musing  a  moment,  and  then  said 
softly  to  himself,  "  This  is  what  the  Scripter  means 
when  it  tells  about  the  '  death  of  the  righteous.' " 

"Yes,"  continued  Mr.  Walton,  though  more 
feebly ;  "  and  the  Scripture  is  true.  The  dear  Lord 
doesn't  desert  His  people.  He  who  has  been  my 
friend  and  helper  so  many  years  now  tells  me  that 
my  sins,  which  are  many,  are  all  forgiven.  It  seems 
that  I  have  also  heard  Him  say,  '  To-day  thou  shalt 
be  with  me  in  Paradise.' " 

Tears  gathered  in  Daddy  Tuggar's  eyes,  and  he 
said,  brokenly,  "  The  Lord  knows — I've  allers  been  a 
sort — of  well-meanin'  man — but  I  couldn't  talk  that 
way — if  I  was  where  you  be." 

"Mr.  Tuggar,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  "I'm  too  weak 
to  say  much  more,  but  I  want  to  ask  you  one  ques 
tion.  You  have  read  the  Bible.  Whom  did  the 
Lord  Jesus  come  to  save  ?  " 


KEPT  FROM  THE  EVIL.  435 

"  Sinners,"  was  the  prompt  response. 

"  Are  you  one  ?  " 

"What  else  be  I?" 

"  Then,  old  neighbor,  you  are  safe,  if  you  will  just 
receive  Him  as  your  Saviour.  If  you  were  sure  you 
were  good  enough  and  didn't  need  any  Saviour,  I 
should  despair  of  you.  But  according  to  the  Bible 
you  are  just  such  as  He  came  after.  If  you  feel  that 
you  are  a  sinner,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  trust  Him 
and  do  the  best  you  can." 

"Is  that  all  you  did?" 

"All.  I  couldn't  do  anything  more.  And  now, 
good-by.  Remember  my  last  words, — Whom  did 
Jesus  come  to  save?  " 

"  Why,  He  come  to  save  me,"  burst  out  the  old 
man,  rising  up.  "  What  a  cussed  old  fool  I  was,  not 
to  see  it  afore  !  I  was  allers  thinkin'  He  came  after 
the  good  folks,  and  I  felt  that  no  matter  how  I  tried 
I  could  not  be  good  enough.  Good-by,  John  Wai- 
ton.  If  they  are  goin'  to  let  sinners  into  heaven 
who  are  willin'  to  come  any  way  the  Lord  will  let 
'em  come,  I'll  be  yer  neighbor  again  'fore  long ; " 
and  with  his  withered,  bronzed  visage  working  with 
an  emotion  that  he  did  not  seek  to  control,  he  wrung 
the  dying  man's  hand,  and  hobbled  out. 

But  he  pleaded  with  Miss  Eulie  to  let  him  stay. 
"  I  want  to  see  it  out,"  he  said,  "  for  if  grim  Death 
ain't  goin'  to  get  one  square  knock-down  now,  then 
he  never  had  it.  I  want  to  see  the  victory.  Tears 
to  me  that  when  the  gates  open  the  glory  will  shine 
out  upon  us  all." 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

So  she  installed  him  in  Mr.  Walton's  arm-chair  by 
the  parlor  fire,  and  made  him  thoroughly  at  home. 

"  I'm  a  waitin*  by  the  side  of  the  river,"  he  said. 
"  I  wish  I  could  go  over  with  him.  'Pears  I'd  feel 
sure  they  wouldn't  turn  me  back  then." 

"  Jesus  will  go  over  the  river  with  you,"  she  said, 
gently,  "  and  then  they  can't  turn  you  back." 

"  I  hope  so,  I  hope  so,"  said  this  old,  child-like 
man,  "  for  I'm  an  awful  sinner." 

After  this  interview,  which  greatly  fatigued  him, 
Mr.  Walton  dozed  for  an  hour,  and  then  brightened 
up  so  decidedly  that  Annie  had  faint  hopes  that  he 
was  better. 

The  children  were  brought  to  him,  and  he  kissed 
and  fondled  them  very  tenderly.  Then,  in  a  way 
that  would  make  a  deep  impression  on  their  childish 
natures,  he  told  them  how  he  was  going  to  see  their 
father  and  mother,  and  would  tell  what  good  chil 
dren  they  had  been,  and  how  they  always  meant  to 
be  good,  and  how  all  would  be  waiting  for  them  in 
heaven. 

Thus  the  little  ones  received  no  grim  and  terrible 
impressions  at  that  death-bed,  but  rather  memories 
and  hopes  that  in  all  their  future  would  hold  them 
back,  like  an  el  hands,  from  evil. 

Hunting  now  believed  that  the  time  for  him  to 
act  had  come.  He  had  told  Jeff  to  have  the  horse 
and  buggy  ready  so  that  he  might  send  for  the  old 
pastor  at  once. 

He  came  to  Annie's  side,  and  taking  her  hand  and 
W  father's,  thus  seeming  a  link  between  them,  said 


KEPT  FROM  THE  EVIL.  437 

very  gently,  very  tenderly,  "  Annie,  your  father  has 
told  me  that  it  would  be  a  great  consolation  to  him 
to  leave  me  in  charge  of  you  all  as  his  son,  legally 
and  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  as  I  feel  I  am  in  reality. 
I  could  then  do  everything  for  you,  relieve  you  of 
every  care,  and  protect  with  unquestionable  right  all 
the  interests  of  the  household.  Again,  the  marriage 
tie,  like  that  of  our  betrothal,  consummated  here  at 
his  side,  would  ever  seem  to  us  peculiarly  tender  and 
sacred.  It  will  almost  literally  be  a  marriage  made 
in  heaven.  I  hope  you  will  feel  that  you  can  grant 
this,  your  father's  last  wish." 

Annie  felt  a  sudden  and  strong  repugnance  to  the 
plan.  In  that  hour  of  agonized  parting  she  did  not 
wish  to  think  of  marriage,  even  to  one  she  loved. 
Her  thoughts  immediately  recurred  to  Gregory,  and 
she  felt  that  such  an  act  might,  in  his  weak  state, 
cause  disastrous  results.  And  yet  if  it  were  her 
father's  wish — his  last  wish,  how  could  she  refuse 
him — how  could  she  refuse  him  anything?  The 
marriage  day  would  eventually  come.  If  by 
making  this  the  day  she  could  once  more  show 
her  filial  love  and  add  to  his  dying  peace, 
did  she  not  owe  him  her  first  duty?  The  dying  are 
omnipotent  with  us.  Who  can  refuse  their  last 
requests  ? 

She  looked  inquiringly,  but  with  tear-blinded 
eyes,  at  her  father. 

"  Yes,  Annie,"  he  said,  answering  her  look,  "  it 
would  be  a  great  consolation  to  me,  because  I  can 
see  how  it  will  be  of  much  advantage  to  you, — more 


438  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

than  you  can  now  understand.  It  will  enable  Charles 
to  step  in  at  once  as  head  of  the  household,  and  so 
you  will  be  relieved  of  many  perplexities  and  details 
of  business  which  would  be  very  trying  to  you,  as 
you  will  feel.  I  want  to  spare  you  and  sister  all 
this,  and  you  have  no  idea  how  much  it  will  save 
your  feelings,  and  add  to  your  comfort,  to  have  one 
like  Charles  act  for  you  with  such  power  as  he  would 
have  as  your  husband.  After  seeing  you  all  thus 
provided  for,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  could  depart  in 
perfect  peace." 

"  Dear  father,"  said  Annie,  tenderly,  "  how  can  I 
deny  you  anything!  This  seems  to  me  no  time  for 
marriage,  but,  since  you  wish  it,  your  will  shall  be 
mine.  It  must  be  right  or  you  would  not  ask  it ; 
and  yet — "  She  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  weeping. 

"That's  my  noble  Annie,"  Hunting  exclaimed, 
with  a  glad  exultation  in  his  voice  that  he  could  not 
disguise ;  and,  hastening  out,  he  told  Jeff  to  bring 
the  minister  as  speedily  as  possible. 

Miss  Eulie  was  called,  and  acquiesced  in  her 
brother's  opinion,  and  hovered  around  Annie  in  a 
tender  flutter  of  maternal  love. 

Hunting  now  felt  that  he  was  master  of  destiny, 
and  in  his  heart  bade  defiance  to  Gregory  and  all  his 
own  fears.  His  elation  and  self-applause  were  great, 
for  had  he  not  snatched  the  prize  out  of  the  hand  of 
death  itself,  and  made  events  that  would  have  awed 
and  disheartened  other  men  combine  for  his  good  ? 
He  had  schemed,  planned,  and  overreached  them  all, 


KEPT  FROM  THE  EVIL.  439 

though,  in  this  case,  for  their  interests  as  well  as  his 
own,  he  believed.  While  he  would  naturally  wish 
the  marriage  to  take  place  as  soon  as  possible,  his 
chief  reason  was  to  forestall  any  revelations  which 
might  come  through  Gregory ;  and  this  motive 
made  his  whole  course,  though  apparently  dictated 
by  the  purest  feeling,  a  crafty  trick.  Yet  such 
was  the  complex  nature  of  the  man  that  he  honestly 
meant  to  fulfil  all  Mr.  Walton's  expectations,  and 
become  Annie's  loving  shield  from  every  care  and 
trial,  and  a  faithful  guardian  of  the  household. 
Nay,  more,  as  soon  as  he  was  securely  intrenched, 
with  all  his  coveted  possessions,  he  purposed  that 
Annie  should  help  him  to  be  a  true,  good  man, — a 
Christian  in  reality. 

Well  may  the  purest  and  strongest  pray  to  be 
kept  from  the  evil  of  the  world.  It  lurks  where 
least  suspected,  and  can  plot  its  wrongs  in  the  cham 
ber  of  death,  and  on  the  threshold  of  heaven. 
Annie  and  her  father  might  at  least  suppose  them 
selves  safe  now.  Were  they  so,  with  God's  minister 
on  his  way  to  join  truth  with  untruth — a  pure- 
hearted  maiden  to  a  man  from  whom  she  would 
shrink  the  moment  she  came  to  know  him  ?  Not  on 
the  human  side.  They  were  safe  only  as  God  kept 
them.  If  Annie  Walton  had  found  herself  married 
to  a  swindler,  hers  would  have  been  a  life-long 
martyrdom.  But  unconsciously  she  drew  momen 
tarily  nearer  the  edge  of  the  precipice.  Time  was 
passing,  and  their  venerable  pastor  would  soon  be 
present.  Annie  had  welcomed  him  every  day 


44°  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

previously,  as  he  came  to  take  sweet  counsel  with 
her  father  rather  than  prepare  him  for  death,  but 
now  she  had  a  strange,  secret  dread  of  his  coming. 

Her  father  suddenly  put  his  hand  to  his  heart. 

"  Have  you  pain  there  ?  "  asked  Annie. 

"  It's  gone,"  he  replied,  after  a  moment.  "  They 
will  soon  be  all  past,  Annie  dear.  How  does  Mr. 
Gregory  seem  now?"  he  asked  of  Miss  Eulie. 

"  Greatly  depressed,  I'm  sorry  to  say,"  she  an 
swered.  "He  knows  that  you  are  no  better,  and  it 
seems  to  distress  him  very  much." 

"  God  bless  him  for  saving  my  darling's  life ! "  he 
said,  fervently  ;  "  and  He  will  bless  him.  I  have  a 
feeling  that  he  will  see  brighter  and  better  days.  I 
can  send  him  almost  a  father's  love  and  blessing,  for 
he  now  seems  like  a  son  to  me.  Say  to  him  that  I 
shall  tell  his  father  of  his  noble  deeds.  Be  a  sister 
to  him,  Annie.  Carry  on  the  good  work  you  have 
so  wisely  begun.  May  the  friendship  of  the  parents 
descend  to  the  children.  And  you,  Charles,  my  son, 
will  surely  feel  toward  him  as  a  brother,  whatever 
may  have  been  the  differences  of  the  past." 

Innocent  but  deeply  embarrassing  words  to  both 
Hunting  and  Annie. 

Again  Mr.  Walton  put  his  hand  to  his  heart. 

Hunting  left  the  room,  for  it  was  surely  time  foi 
Jeff  to  return.  With  a  gleam  of  exultant  joy  he  saw 
him  driving  toward  the  house  with  the  white-haired 
minister  at  his  side.  He  returned  softly  to  the  sick 
room. 

Mr.  Walton  had  just  taken  Anniers  hands,  and 


KEPT  FROM  THE  EVIL.  441 

after  a  look  of  unutterable  fondness,  said,  "  Before  I 
give  you  to  another — -while  you  are  still  my  own 
little  girl — let  me  thank  you  for  having  been  all  and 
more  than  a  father  could  ask.  How  good  God  was 
f o  give  me  such  a  comfort  in  your  mother's  place ! " 

"  Dear  father !  "  was  all  that  Annie  could  say. 

Even  then  the  minister  was  entering  the  house. 

'•  I  bless  thee,  my  child,"  the  father  continued; 
then  turning  his  eyes  heavenward  he  reverently 
closed  them  in  prayer,  saying,  "  and  God  bless  thee 
also,  and  keep  thee  from  every  evil." 

God  answered  him. 

His  grasp  on  Annie's  hand  relaxed  ;  without  even 
a  sigh  he  passed  away. 

Annie  started  up  with  a  look  of  alarm,  and  saw 
the  same  expression  on  the  faces  of  her  aunt  and 
Hunting.  They  spoke  to  him ;  he  did  not  answer. 
Hunting  felt  his  pulse.  Its  throb  had  ceased  forever. 
The  chill  of  a  great  dread  turned  his  own  face  like 
that  of  the  dead. 

Miss  Eulie  put  her  hand  on  her  brother's  heart. 
It  was  at  rest.  Annie  stood  motionless  with  dilating 
eyes  watching  them.  But  when  her  aunt  came 
toward  her  with  streaming  eyes  she  realized  the 
truth  and  fell  fainting  to  the  floor. 

Just  then  the  old  minister  crossed  the  threshold, 
but  Hunting  said  to  him,  almost  savagely,  "You  are 
too  late." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
"  LIVE  !  LIVE  ! "— ANNIE'S  APPEAL. 

ANNIE'S  swoon  was  so  prolonged  that  both  her 
aunt  and  Hunting  were  alarmed.  It  was  the 
reaction  from  the  deep  and  peculiar  excitement 
of  the  last  few  days.  Every  power  of  mind  and 
body  had  been  under  the  severest  strain,  and  nature 
now  gave  way. 

The  doctor,  when  he  came  to  make  his  morning 
call,  was  most  welcome.  He  said  there  was  nothing 
alarming  about  Miss  Walton's  symptoms,  but  added 
very  decisively  that  she  would  need  rest  and  quiet 
of  mind  for  a  long  time  in  order  to  regain  her  former 
tone  and  health. 

When  Annie  revived  he  gave  something  that 
would  tend  to  quiet  her  nervous  system  and  produce 
sleep. 

"  I  now  understand  Mr.  Walton's  case,"  he  said  to 
Miss  Eulie.  "I  could  not  see  why  his  severe  cold, 
which  he  had  apparently  cured,  should  result  as  it 
did.  But  now  it's  plain  that  it  was  complicated 
with  heart  difficulties." 

His  visit  to  Gregory  was  not  at  all  satisfactory, 
for  his  patient's  depression  was  so  great  that  he  was 
sinking  under  it.  Mr.  Walton's  death,  leaving  Annie 


"  LI  VE 1  LIVE  /  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  443 

defenceless,  as  it  were,  in  the  hands  of  a  man  like 
Hunting,  seemed  another  of  the  dark  and  cruel 
mysteries  which  to  him  made  up  human  life.  The 
death  that  had  given  Daddy  Tuggarsuchan  impulse 
toward  faith  and  hope  only  led  him  to  say  with 
intense  bitterness,  "  God  has  forgotten  His  world, 
and  the  devil  rules  it." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  the  physician,  gravely,  "  do 
you  know  that  you  are  about  the  same  as  taking 
your  own  life  ?  All  the  doctors  in  the  world  cannot 
help  you  unless  you  try  to  live.  Drugs  cannot 
remove  your  apathy  and  morbid  depression." 

"  Very  well,  doctor,"  he  replied,  coldly  ;  "  do  not 
trouble  yourself  to  come  any  more.  I  absolve  you 
from  all  blame." 

"  But  I  cannot  absolve  myself.  Besides,  it's  not 
manly  to  give  up  in  this  style." 

"  I  make  no  pretence  of  being  manly  or  anything 
else.  I  am  just  what  you  see.  Can  a  broken  reed 
stand  up  like  a  sturdy  oak?  Can  such  a  thing  as  I 
reverse  fate?  Thank  you,  doctor,  for  all  you  have 
done,  but  waste  no  more  time  upon  me.  I  knew, 
weeks  ago,  that  the  end  was  near,  and  I  would  like 
to  die  in  the  old  place." 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  a  moment  in  deep  per 
plexity,  and  then  silently  left  the  room. 

"  Internal  injuries  that  I  can't  get  at,"  he  muttered, 
as  he  drove  away. 

Miss  Eulie  came  to  Gregory's  side,  and  laying  her 
hand  gently  on  his  brow  said,  "  You  are  mistaken^ 
my  young  friend.  You  are  going  to  live." 


444  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  dying  often  have  almost  prophetic  vision ; " 
and  she  told  him  all  that  Mr.  Walton  had  said, 
though  nothing  of  the  contemplated  marriage.  She 
dwelt  with  special  emphasis  on  the  facts  that  he 
had  told  Annie  to  be  a  sister  to  Gregory  and  had 
gone  to  heaven  with  the  assurance  to  his  old  friend 
that  his  son  would  join  him  there. 

Gregory  was  strongly  moved,  and  turning  his  face 
upon  the  pillow,  gave  way  to  a  passion  of  tears ;  but 
they  were  despairing,  bitter,  regretful  tears.  He 
soon  seemed  ashamed  of  them,  and  when  he  again 
turned  his  face  toward  Miss  Eulie,  it  had  a  hard, 
stony  look. 

Almost  with  sternness  he  said,  "If  the  dying  have 
supernatural  insight,  why  could  not  Mr.  Walton  see 
what  kind  of  a  man  Hunting  is?  Please  leave  me 
now.  I  know  how  kind  and  well-meant  your  words 
are,  but  they  are  mockery  to  me ; "  and  he  turned 
his  face  to  the  wall. 

Miss  Eulie  sighed  very  deeply,  but  felt  that  his 
case  was  beyond  her  skill. 

Daddy  Tuggar  was  at  first  grievously  disappointed. 
He  had  wrought  himself  up  into  the  hope  of  a  celes 
tial  scene,  and  the  abrupt  and  quiet  termination  of 
Mr.  Walton's  life  seemed  inadequate  to  the  occasion 
But  Miss  Eulie  comforted  him  by  saying  that  "  the 
Christian  walked  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight, — that 
God  knew  what  was  best,  better  than  we,  His  little 
children. 

"  Death  had  not  even  the  power  to  cause  him  a 


••  LIVE  !  LIVE  !  "-ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  445 

moment's  pain,"  she  said.  "  God  gave  him  a  sweet 
surprise,  by  letting  him  through  the  gates  before  he 
was  aware." 

Thus  she  led  the  strange  old  man  to  think  it  was 
for  the  best  after  all.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Ames,  who  had 
come  on  such  a  different  mission,  also  tried  to  make 
clearer  what  Mr.  Walton  had  said  to  him.  But  Daddy 
Tuggar  would  not  permit  his  mind  to  wander  a  mo 
ment  from  the  simple  truth,  which  he  kept  saying 
over  and  over  to  himself,  "  I'm  an  awful  sinner,  and 
the  good  Lord  come  after  just  such." 

Another  thing  that  greatly  perplexed  the  old  man 
was  that  Mr.  Walton  had  not  been  permitted  to  live 
long  enough  to  see  his  daughter  married.  As  an  old 
neighbor,  and  because  of  his  strong  attachment  to 
Annie,  he  had  been  invited  to  be  present. 

"  Tears  to  me  that  the  Lord  might  have  spared 
him  a  few  minutes  longer,"  he  said. 

"  It  appears  to  you  so,"  replied  Mr.  Ames,  "  but 
the  Lord  knows  why  he  did  not." 

"Well,  parson,"  said  Daddy  Tuggar,  "  I  thank  you 
very  kindly  for  what  you  have  said,  but  John  Wal 
ton  has  done  the  business  for  me.  I'm  just  goin'  to 
trust, — I'm  just  goin'  to  let  myself  go  limber  and  fall 
right  down  on  the  Lord  Jesus'  word.  I  don't  believe 
it  will  break  with  me.  Anyhow,  it's  all  I  can  do,  and 
John  Walton  told  me  to  do  it,  and  I  allers  found  he 
was  about  right."  And  thus  late  in  the  twilight  of 
life  the  old  man  took  his  pilgrim's  staff  and  started 
homeward. 

As  soon  as  Hunting  recovered  from  his  bitter  dis- 


446  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

appointment  and  almost  superstitious  alarm  at  the 
sudden  thwarting  of  his  purpose,  his  wily  and 
scheming  mmd  fell  to  work  on  a  new  combination. 
If  he  still  could  induce  Annie  to  be  married  almost 
immediately,  as  he  greatly  hoped,  all  would  be  well. 
If  not,  then  he  would  assume  that  they  were  the 
same  as  married,  and  at  once  take  his  place  so  far  as 
possible  at  the  head  of  the  household,  in  accordance 
with  Mr.  Walton's  wish.  On  one  hand,  by  tender 
care  and  thoughtfulness  for  them  all,  he  would  place 
Annie  under  the  deepest  obligation ;  on  the  other, 
he  would  gain,  to  the  extent  he  could,  control  of 
her  affairs  and  property.  In  the  latter  purpose  Mr. 
Walton  had  greatly  aided  by  naming  him  one  of  the 
executors  of  his  will;  and  only  Miss  Eulie,  the 
sister-in-law,  was  united  with  him  as  executrix.  Thus 
he  would  substantially  have  his  own  way.  Indeed, 
Mr.  Walton,  in  his  perfect  trust,  meant  that  he 
should. 

Having  seen  Annie  quietly  sleeping,  he  started  for 
New  York  to  make  arrangements  for  the  funeral,  and 
look  after  some  personal  matters  that  had  already 
been  neglected  too  long. 

His  feelings  on  the  journey  were  not  enviable.  He 
had  enough  faith  to  fear  God,  but  not  to  trust  and 
obey.  The  thought  recurred  with  disheartening  fre 
quency,  "  If  God  is  against  this,  He  will  thwart  me 
every  time." 

The  day  had  closed  in  thick  darkness  and  a  storm 
before  Annie  awoke  from  the  deep  sleep  which  the 
sedative  had  prolonged.  Though  weak  and  languid. 


"  LIVE  I  LIVE  t  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  447 

she  insisted  on  getting  up.  Her  aunt  almost  forced 
her  to  take  a  little  supper,  and  then  she  went  in 
stinctively  and  naturally  to  that  room  which  had 
always  been  a  place  of  refuge,  but  which  now  was 
the  chamber  of  death. 

She  turned  up  the  light  that  she  might  look  at  the 
dear,  dear  face.  How  calm  and  noble  it  was  in  its 
deep  repose!  It  did  not  suggest  death, — only  peace 
ful  sleep. 

With  a  passionate  burst  of  sorrow  she  moaned, 
"O  father,  let  me  sleep  beside  you,  and  be  at 
rest !  " 

Then  she  took  his  cold  hand,  and  sat  down 
mechanically  to  watch,  as  in  the  days  and  nights  just 
passed.  But  as  she  became  composed  and  thought 
grew  busy,  the  deep  peace  of  the  sleeper  seemed  im 
parted  to  her.  In  vivid  imagination  she  followed 
him  to  the  home  and  greetings  that  he  had  so  joy 
ously  anticipated.  She  saw  him  meet  her  mother 
and  sister,  and  other  loved  ones  who  had  gone  be 
fore.  She  saw  him  at  his  Saviour's  feet,  blessed  and 
crowned.  She  heard  the  wild  storm  raging  without 
in  the  darkness,  and  then  thought  of  his  words 
"There  is  no  night  there." 

"  Dear  father,"  she  murmured,  "  I  would  not  call 
you  back  if  I  could.  God  give  me  patience  to  come 
to  you  in  His  own  appointed  way." 

Then  she  dwelt  upon  the  strange  events  of  the  day. 
How  near  she  had  come  to  being  a  wife !  Why  had 
she  not  become  one  ?  That  the  marriage  should  have 
been  so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  prevented  on  the 


448  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

very  eve  of  consummation,  caused  some  curious 
thoughts  to  flit  through  her  mind. 

"  It  is  enough  to  know  that  it  was  God's  will,"  she 
said  ;  "  and  my  future  is  still  in  His  hands.  Poor 
Charles!  it  will  be  a  disappointment  to  him;  and 
yet  what  difference  will  a  few  weeks  or  months 
make  ?  " 

Then  her  father's  words,  "Be  a  sister  to  Gregory," 
recurred  to  her,  and  she  reproached  herself  that  she 
had  so  long  forgotten  him. 

"  Father  is  safe  home,"  she  said,  "  and  I  am  leaving 
him  to  wander  farther  and  farther  away.  Father  told 
me  to  be  a  sister  to  him,  and  I  will.  When  he  gets  well 
and  strong,  if  he  ever  does,  he  will  feel  very  differently ; 
and  if  he  is  to  die  (which  God  forbid),  what  more 
sacred  duty  can  I  have  than  to  plead  with  him  and 
for  him  to  the  last  ?  " 

Pressing  a  kiss  on  her  father's  silent  lips,  she 
went  to  fulfil  one  of  their  last  requests.  She  first 
asked  her  aunt  if  it  would  be  prudent  to  visit  Greg 
ory. 

"  I  hardly  know,  Annie,  what  to  say,"  said  Miss 
Eulie,  in  deep  perplexity;  and  she  told  her  what  had 
occurred  in  relation  to  Gregory,  the  doctor,  and  her 
self,  omitting  all  reference  to  Hunting.  "  If  he  is  not 
roused  out  of  his  gloom  and  apathy,  I  fear  he  will 
die,"  concluded  her  aunt  ;  "  and  if  you  can't  rouse 
him,  I  don't  know  who  can." 

Annie  gave  her  a  quick,  questioning  glance. 

"  Yes,  Annie,  I  understand,"  she  said,  quietly. 
"He  received  his  worst  injury  before  the  ladder 
fell." 


"LIVE!  LIVE t "—AN NIK S  APPEAL.  449 

"  O  aunty,  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  child,  I  can  hardly  tell  you. 
You  are  placed  in  a  difficult  and  delicate  position. 
Perhaps  your  father's  words  were  wisest,  '  Be  a 
sister  to  him/  At  any  rate,  you  have  more  power 
with  him  than  any  one  else,  and  you  owe  it  to  him 
to  do  all  you  can  to  save  him." 

"  I  am  ready  to  do  anything,  aunty,  for  it  seems 
as  if  I  could  never  be  happy  if  he  should  die  an  un 
believer." 

Annie  stole  noiselessly  to  Gregory's  side,  and 
motioned  to  the  young  man  who  was  in  charge  to 
withdraw  to  the  next  room.  Gregory  was  still  asleep. 
She  sat  down  by  him  and  was  greatly  shocked  to  see 
how  emaciated  and  pale  he  was.  It  seemed  as  if 
he  had  suffered  from  an  illness  of  weeks  rather  than 
days. 

"  He  will  die,"  she  murmured,  with  all  her  old 
terror  at  the  thought  returning.  "  He  will  die,  and 
for  me.  Though  innocent,  I  shall  always  feel  that 
his  blood  is  upon  me;  "  and  she  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands,  and  her  whole  frame  shook  with  a  passion 
of  grief. 

Her  emotion  awoke  him,  and  he  recognized  with 
something  like  awe  the  bowed  head  at  his  side. 

Her  grief  for  her  father,  as  he  supposed  it  to  be, 
seemed  such  a  sacred  thing !  And  yet  he  could  not 
bear  to  see  her  intense  sorrow.  His  heart  ached  to 
comfort  her,  but  what  words  of  consolation  could 
such  as  he  offer  ?  Still  had  she  not  come  to  him  as 
if  for  comfort?  This  thought  touched  him  deeply, 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  he  almost  cursed  his  unbelieving  soul  that  made 
him  dumb  at  such  a  time.  What  could  he  say  but 
miserable  commonplaces  in  regard  to  a  bereavement 
like  hers? 

He  did  not  say  anything,  but  merely  reached  out 
his  hand  and  gently  stroked  her  bowed  head. 

Then  she  knew  he  was  awake,  and  she  took  his 
hand  and  bowed  her  head  upon  it. 

"  Miss  Walton,"  he  said,  in  a  husky  voice,  "  it 
cuts  me  to  the  heart  to  see  you  grieve  so.  But, 
alas!  I  do  not  know  how  to  comfort  you,  and  I  can't 
say  trite  words  which  mean  nothing.  After  losing 
such  a  father  as  yours,  what  can  any  one  say?" 

She  raised  her  head  and  said,  impetuously,  "  It's 
not  for  father  I  am  grieving.  He  is  in  heaven — he 
is  not  lost  to  me.  It's  for  you — you.  You  are 
breaking  my  heart." 

"  Miss  Walton,"  he  began,  in  much  surprise,  "  I 
don't  understand — " 

"  Why  don't  you  understand?"  she  interrupted. 
"  What  do  you  think  I  am  made  of  ?  Do  you 
think  that  you  can  lie  here  and  die  for  me  and  I  go 
serenely  on?  Do  you  not  see  that  you  would  blight 
the  life  you  have  saved  ?  " 

His  apathy  was  gone  now.  But  he  was  bewildered, 
so  sudden  and  overpowering  was  her  emotion.  He 
only  found  words  to  say,  "  Miss  Walton,  God  knows 
I  am  yours,  body  and  soul.  What  can  I  do  ?" 

"Live!  live!"  she  continued,  with  the  same 
passionate  earnestness.  "  I  impose  no  conditions,  I 
ask  nothing  else.  Only  get  well  and  strong  again. 


"  LIVE  !  LIVE  !  "—ANNIE' S  APPEAL.  4  5 1 

If  you  will  do  this,  I  have  such  confidence  in  your 
better  nature,  and  the  many  prayers  laid  up  for  you, 
as  to  feel  sure  that  all  will  come  out  right.  But  if 
you  will  just  lie  here  and  die,  you  will  imbitter  my 
life.  What  did  the  doctor  tell  you  this  morning? 
And  yet  I  shall  feel  that  I  am  partly  the  cause.  O 
Mr.  Gregory,  you  may  think  me  foolish,  but  that 
strange  little  omen  of  the  chestnut  burr  is  in  my 
mind  so  often  !  I  never  was  superstitious  before,  but 
it  haunts  me.  Don't  you  remember  how  you  stained 
my  hand  with  your  blood  ?  I  can't  get  it  out  of  my 
mind,  and  it  has  for  me  now  a  strange  significance. 
If  I  had  to  remember  through  coming  years  that  you 
died  for  me  all  hopeless  and  unbelieving,  do  you 
think  so  poorly  of  me  as  to  imagine  I  could  be 
happy?  Why  can't  you  be  generous  enough  to 
brighten  the  life  you  have  saved?  Among  my 
father's  last  words  he  said  I  must  be  a  sister  to  you. 
How  can  I  if  you  die?  You  would  make  this  dear 
old  place,  that  we  both  love,  full  of  terrible  mem 
ories." 

He  was  deeply  moved,  and  after  a  moment  said, 
"  I  did  not  know  that  you  felt  in  this  way.  I  thought 
the  best  thing  that  I  could  do  was  to  get  out  of  the 
world  and  out  of  the  way.  I  thought  I  knew  yout 
but  I  do  not  half  understand  your  large,  generous 
heart.  For  your  sake  I  will  try  and  get  well,  nor 
will  I  impose  any  conditions  whatever.  But  pardon 
rne :  I  am  going  to  ask  one  thing,  which  you  can 
grant  or  not  as  you  choose.  Please  do  not  wrong 
me  by  thinking  that  I  have  any  personal  end  m 


452  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

view.  I  have  given  all  that  up  as  truly  as  if  I  were 
dead.  I  ask  that  you  do  not  speedily  marry  Charles 
Hunting, — not  till  you  are  sure  you  know  him." 

"  O  dear !  "  exclaimed  Annie,  in  real  distress, 
"  this  dreadful  quarrel !  What  trouble  it  makes  all 
around  ! " 

"  If  your  father,"  continued  Gregory,  with  grave 
earnestness,  "  told  you  to  be  a  sister  to  me,  then  I 
have  some  right  to  act  as  a  brother  toward  you. 
But  as  an  honest  man,  with  all  my  faults,  and  with 
your  interests  nearest  my  heart,  I  entreat  you  to 
heed  my  request.  Nay,  more :  I  am  going  to  seem 
ungenerous,  and  refer  for  the  first  and  last  time  to 
the  obligation  you  are  under  to  me.  By  all  the  in 
fluence  I  gained  by  that  act,  I  beg  of  you  to  hesitate 
before  you  marry  Charles  Hunting.  Believe  me,  I 
would  not  lay  a  straw  in  the  way  of  your  marrying  a 
good  man." 

"Your  words  pain  me  more  than  I  can  tell  you," 
said  Annie,  sadly.  "  I  do  not  understand  them. 
Once  they  would  have  angered  me.  But,  however 
mistaken  you  are,  I  cannot  do  injustice  to  your 
motive. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  your  request  can  injure  Charles," 
she  continued,  musingly.  "  I  have  no  wish  to  marry 
now  for  a  long  time, — not  till  these  sad  scenes  have 
faded  somewhat  from  memory.  If  you  will  only 
promise  to  live  I  will  not  marry  him  till  you  get 
strong  and  well,- -till  you  can  look  upon  this  matter 
as  a  man — as  a  brother  ought.  But  your  hostility 
must  not  be  unreasonable  or  implacable.  I  know 


" LIVE  1  LIVE! "—ANNIE* S  APPEAL.  45 3 

you  do  Mr.  Hunting  great  injustice.  And  yet  such 
is  my  solicitude  for  you  that  I  will  do  what  seems  to 
me  almost  disloyal.  But  I  know  that  I  owe  a  great 
deal  to  you  as  well  as  Charles." 

"  What  I  ask  is  for  your  sake,  not  mine.  I  only 
used  the  obligation  as  a  motive." 

"  Well,"  said  Annie,  "  I  yield ;  and  surely  a  sis. 
ter  could  do  no  more  than  I  have  done  to-night." 

11  And  I  have  simply  done  my  duty,"  he  answered, 
quietly.  "  And  yet  I  thank  you  truly.  You  also 
may  see  the  time  when  you  will  thank  me  more  than 
when  I  interposed  my  worthless  person  between  you 
and  danger.'* 

"  Please  never  call  yourself  *  worthless '  to  me 
again.  We  never  did  agree,  and  I  fear  we  shall  be 
gray  before  we  do.  But  mark  this ;  I  am  never 
going  to  give  you  up,  whatever  happens.  I  shall 
obey  dear  father's  last  words  from  both  duty  and  in 
clination.  But  let  us  end  this  painful  conversation. 
What  have  you  eaten  to-day  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  he  said. 

"Will  you  eat  something  if  I  bring  it?" 

"  I  will  do  anything  you  ask." 

"  Now  you  give  me  hope,"  and  she  vanished,  send 
ing  the  regular  watcher  back  to  his  post. 

Gregory  found  it  no  difficult  task  to  eat  the  dainty 
little  supper  she  brought.  She  had  broken  the 
malign  spell  he  was  under.  As  we  have  seen,  his 
was  a  physical  nature  peculiarly  subject  to  mental 
conditions. 

Soon  after  she  said,  in  a  low  tone  meant  only  fof 


454  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

his  ear,  "  Good-night,  my  poor  suffering  brother.  We 
all  three  shall  understand  each  other  better  in  God's 
good  time." 

"  I  hope  so,"  he  said,  with  a  different  meaning. 
"You  have  made  me  feel  that  I  am  not  alone  and 
uncared  for  in  the  world,  though  I  cannot  call  you 
sister  yet.  Good-night." 

Annie  went  back  to  her  father's  side,  and  remained 
till  her  aunt  almost  forced  her  away. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  on  the  events  of  the 
next  few  days.  Such  is  our  earthly  lot,  nearly  all 
can  depict  them  by  recalling  their  own  sad  experi 
ence:  the  hushed  and  solemn  household,  even  the 
children  speaking  low  and  treading  softly,  as  if  they 
might  awake  one  whom  only  "  the  last  trump  "  could 
arouse. 

John  Walton's  funeral  was  no  formal  pageant,  but 
an  occasion  of  sincere  and  general  mourning.  Even 
those  whose  lives  and  characters  were  the  opposite 
of  his  had  the  profoundest  respect  for  him,  and  the 
entire  community  united  in  honoring  his  memory. 

Perhaps  the  most  painful  time  of  all  to  the  stricken 
family  was  the  evening  after  their  slow,  dreary  ride 
to  the  village  cemetery.  Then,  as  not  before,  they 
realized  their  loss. 

Annie  felt  that  her  best  solace  would  be  in  trying 
to  cheer  others.  She  had  seen  Gregory  but  seldom 
and  briefly  since  the  interview  last  described,  but 
had  been  greatly  comforted  by  his  decided  change 
for  the  better.  He  had  kept  his  word.  Indeed,  it 
was  only  the  leaden  hand  of  despondency  that  kept 


*  LIVE  !  LIVE  !  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  45  5 

nim  down,  and  he  rallied  from  the  moment  it  was 
lifted.  This  evening  he  was  dressed  and  sitting  by 
the  fire.  As  she  entered,  in  her  deep  mourning,  his 
look  was  so  wistful  and  kind,  so  eloquent  with  sym 
pathy,  that  instead  of  cheering  him,  as  she  had  in 
tended,  she  sat  down  on  a  low  ottoman,  and  burying 
her  face  in  her  hands,  cried  as  if  her  heart  would 
break. 

"  O  that  I  knew  how  to  comfort  you  !  "  said  Greg 
ory,  in  the  deepest  distress.  "  I  cannot  bear  to  see 
you  suffer." 

He  rose  with  difficulty  and  came  to  her  side,  say 
ing,  "  What  can  I  do,  Miss  Walton  ?  Would  that  I 
could  prevent  you,  at  any  cost  to  myself,  from  ever 
shedding  another  tear !  " 

His  sympathy  was  so  true  and  strong  that  it  was 
a  luxury  for  her  to  receive  it  ;  and  she  had  kept  up 
so  long  that  tears  were  nature's  own  relief. 

At  last  he  said  timidly,  hesitatingly,  as  if  venturing 
on  forbidden  ground,  "  I  think  the  Bible  says  that  in 
heaven  all  tears  will  be  wiped  away.  Your  father  is 
surely  there." 

" Would  that  I  were  there  with  him!"  she 
sobbed. 

"Not  yet,  Annie,  not  yet,"  he  said,  gently. 
"  Think  how  dark  this  world  would  be  to  more  than 
one  if  you  were  not  in  it." 

"  But  will  you  never  seek  this  dear  home  of  rest  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  The  way  of  life  is  closed  to  me,"  he  said, 
sadly. 


456  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"O  Mr.  Gregory  !  Who  is  it  that  says,  <l  am  the 
way?*" 

"  But  He  says  to  me,  «  Depart.'  " 

"  And  yet  I,  knowing  all, — I,  a  weak,  sinful  crea 
ture  like  yourself, — say,  Come  to  Him.  I  am  better 
and  kinder  than  He  who  died  for  us  all !  What 
strange,  sad  logic  !  Good-night,  Walter.  You  will 
not  always  so  wrong  your  best  Friend." 

Gregory's  despairing  conviction  that  his  day  of 
mercy  was  past  was  hardly  proof  against  her  words 
and  manner,  but  he  was  in  thick  darkness  and  saw  no 
way  out. 

Annie  went  down  to  her  aunt  and  Hunting  in  the 
parlor.  "  Why  will  Mr.  Gregory  be  so  hard  and 
unbelieving?  "  she  said,  tearfully. 

"  If  you  knew  him  as  well  as  I  do  you  would 
understand,"  said  Hunting,  politicly,  and  then 
changed  the  conversation. 

He  was  consumed  by  a  jealousy  which  he  dared 
not  show.  Annie's  manner  toward  him  was  all  that 
he  could  ask,  and  he  felt  sure  of  her  now.  But  it 
was  the  future  he  dreaded,  for  he  was  satisfied  that 
Gregory  had  formed  an  attachment  for  Anniej 
whether  she  knew  it  or  not,  and,  unless  he  could 
secure  her  by  marriage,  the  man  he  had  wronged  might 
find  means  of  tearing  off  his  mask.  With  desperate 
earnestness  he  resolved  to  press  his  suit. 

His  course  since  Mr.  Walton's  death  had  been  such 
as  to  win  Annie's  sincerest  gratitude.  When  action 
rather  than  moral  support  was  required,  he  was 
strong,  and  no  one  could  be  more  delicately 


" LIVE !  LIVE! "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  45 7 

thoughtful  of  her  feelings  and  kinder  than  he  had 
been. 

"  Dear  Charles,"  said  Annie,  when  they  were  alone. 
"  What  should  I  have  done  without  you  in  all  these 
dreary  days  !  How  you  have  saved  me  from  all  pain 
ful  contact  with  the  world  !  " 

"And  so  I  ever  wish  to  shield  you,"  said  Hunting. 
"Will  you  not,  as  your  father  purposed,  give  me  the 
right  at  once  ?  " 

"  You  have  the  right,  Charles.  I  ask  no  more  than 
you  have  done  and  are  doing.  But  do  not  urge 
marriage  now.  I  yielded  then  for  father's  sake,  not 
my  own.  My  heart  is  too  sore  and  crushed  to  think 
of  it  now.  After  all,  what  difference  can  a  few 
months  make  to  you  ?  Be  generous.  Give  me  a 
respite,  and  I  will  make  you  a  better  wife  and  a  hap 
pier  home." 

"  But  it  looks,  Annie,  as  if  you  could  not  trust 
me,"  he  said,  gloomily. 

"  No,  Charles,"  she  said,  gravely,  "  it  looks  rather 
as  if  you  distrusted  me ;  and  you  must  learn  to  trust 
me  implicitly.  Out  of  both  love  for  you  and  justice 
to  myself,  I  exercise  my  woman's  right  of  naming 
the  day.  In  the  mean  time  I  give  you  my  perfect 
confidence.  No  words  of  others — nothing  but  your 
own  acts  can  disturb  it,  and  of  this  I  have  no  fear." 

He  did  not  seek  to  disguise  his  deep  disappoint 
ment.  While  she  felt  sorry  for  him,  she  remained 
firm,  and  he  saw  that  it  would  not  be  wise  to  urge 
her. 

Annie  would  not  carelessly  give  pain  to  any  one, 


458  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

much  less  to  those  she  loved.  And  yet  her  mind 
was  strong  and  well-balanced.  She  knew  it  was  no 
great  misfortune  to  Hunting  to  wait  a  few  months 
when  her  own  feelings  and  the  duty  she  owed  an 
other  required  it.  "  When  Mr.  Gregory  gets  strong 
and  well  and  back  to  business/'  she  thought,  "  he 
will  wonder  at  himself.  I  have  no  right  almost  to 
destroy  him  now  in  his  weakness  by  doing  that 
which  can  be  done  better  at  another  time ;  and 
indeed,  for  my  own  sake,  I  should  have  required 
delay." 

The  next  day  Hunting  was  reluctantly  compelled 
to  go  to  the  city.  Somewhat  to  Annie's  surprise, 
Gregory  made  no  effort  to  secure  her  society.  In 
her  frank,  sisterly  regard  she  was  slow  in  understand 
ing  that  her  presence  caused  regretful  pain  to  him. 
But  he  seemed  resolutely  bent  upon  getting  well, 
and  was  gaining  rapidly.  He  walked  out  a  little 
while  during  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  her  eyes 
followed  him  wistfully  as  he  moved  slowly  and  feebly 
along  the  garden  walk.  She  saw,  with  quickly  start 
ing  tears,  that  he  went  to  the  rustic  seat  by  the  brook 
where  they  had  spent  that  memorable  Sunday  after 
noon,  and  that  he  stood  in  long,  deep  thought. 

When  he  came  back  she  offered  to  read  to  him. 

"  Not  now — not  yet,"  he  said,  sadly.     "  I   know 
my  own  weakness,  and  would  be  true  to  my  word." 
^  "  Why  do  you  shun  me?  "  she  asked. 

;:  May  you  never  understand  from  experience,"  he 
said,  with  a  smile  that  was  sadder  than  tears,  and 
passed  on  up  to  his  room. 


"  LIVE  !  LIVE  !  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL,  45 9 

And  yet,  though  he  did  not  know  it,  his  course 
was  the  best  policy,  for  it  awakened  stronger  respect 
and  sympathy  on  her  part. 

The  next  morning  ushered  in  the  first  of  the 
dreamy  Indian-summer  days,  when  Nature,  as  if 
grieved  over  the  havoc  of  the  frost,  would  hide  the 
dismantled  trees  and  dead  flowers  by  a  purple  haze, 
and  seek  as  do  fading  beautirs  to  disguise  the  rav 
ages  of  time  by  drawing  over  her  withered  face  a 
deceptive  veil. 

Gregory  felt  so  much  better  that  he  thought  he 
could  venture  to  make  a  parting  call  on  Daddy  Tug- 
gar.  He  found  the  old  man  smoking  on  his  porch, 
and  his  reception  was  as  warm  and  demonstrative  as 
his  first  had  been  a  month  ago,  though  of  a  different 
nature.  Gregory  lighted  a  cigar  and  sat  down  be 
side  him. 

"  I'm  wonderful  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Mr.  Tuggar. 
"  To  think  that  I  should  have  cussed  you  when  it 
was  the  good  Lord  that  brought  you  here  !  " 

"  Do  you  think  so?"  asked  Gregory. 

"Certain  I  do.  Would  that  house  be  there? 
Wouldn't  all  our  hearts  be  broke  for  Miss  Annie  if 
it  wasn't  for  you  ?  " 

Gregory  felt  that  his  heart  was  "  broke  "  for  her 
as  it  was,  but  he  said,  "  It  was  my  taking  her  out  to 
walk  that  caused  her  danger.  So  you  wouldn't  have 
lost  her  if  I  had  not  come." 

"You  didn't  knowin'ly  git  her  in  danger,  and  you 
did  knowin'ly  git  her  out,  and  that's  enough  forme/* 
said  the  old  man* 


460  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Tuggar,  if  I  had  broken  my  neck 
it  would  have  been  a  little  thing  compared  with  sav 
ing  the  life  of  such  a  woman  as  Miss  Walton.  Still, 
I  fear  the  Lord  has  not  much  to  do  with  me." 

"  And  have  you  been  all  this  time  with  John  Wal 
ton  and  Miss  Annie  and  still  feel  that  way?" 

"  It's  not  their  fault." 

"  I  believe  that.  Are  you  willin'  to  say  you  are  a 
great  sinner?  " 

"  Of  course.     What  else  am  I  ?  " 

"That's  it— that's  it,"  cried  the  old  man,  delight 
edly.  "  Now  you're  all  right.  That's  just  where  I 
was.  When  John  Walton  bid  me  good-by,  he  asked 
me  one  question  that  let  more  light  into  my  thick 
head  than  all  the  readin'  and  preachin'  and  prayin'  I 
ever  heard.  He  asked,  'Whom  did  Jesus  Christ 
come  to  save?  '  Answer  that." 

"The  Bible  says  He  came  to  save  sinners,"  replied 
Gregory,  now  deeply  interested. 

"Well,  I  should  think  that  meant  you  and  me," 
said  Mr.  Tuggar,  emphatically.  "  Anyhow,  I  know 
it  means  me.  John  Walton  told  me  that  all  I  had 
to  do  was  to  just  trust  the  Saviour — not  of  goodpeo« 
pie — but  of  sinners,  and  do  the  best  I  could  ;  and  I 
have  just  done  it,  and  I'm  all  right,  Mr.  Gregory,  I'm 
all  right.  I  don't  know  whether  I  can  stop  swearin', 
imt  I'm  a  tryin'.  I  don't  know  whether  I  can  ever 
get  under  my  eld  ugly  temper,  but  I'm  a  tryin'  and  a 
prayin'.  But  whether  I  can  or  not,  I'm  all  right,  for 
the  good  Lord  came  to  save  sinners ;  and  if  that 
don't  mean  me,  what's  the  use  of  words  ?  " 


"  LIVE  !  LIVE  !  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  46* 

"But  can  you  trust  Him?  "  asked  Gregory. 

"  Certain  I  can.  Wasn't  John  Walton  an  honest 
man  ?  Wasn't  Jesus  Christ  honest  ?  Didn't  he  know 
what  He  come  for  ?  " 

"Admitting  that  He  came  to  save  sinners,  how 
can  you  be  sure  He  will  save  all?  He  might  save 
you  and  not  me." 

"Well,  "  said  Mr.  Tuggar,  "I  hadn't  been  home 
long  before  that  question  come  up  to  me,  and  I 
thought  on  it  a  long  time.  I  smoked  well-nigh  a 
hundred  pipes  on  it  afore  I  got  it  settled,  but  'tis 
settled,  and  when  I  settle  a  thing  I  don't  go  both- 
erin*  back  about  it.  But  like  enough  't  won't  satisfy 
you." 

"  At  any  rate,  I  should  like  to  hear  youf  con 
clusion." 

"  Well,  I  argued  it  out  to  myself.  I  says,  '  Sup 
pose  there's  some  sinners  too  bad,  or  too  somethin' 
or  other,  for  the  Lord  to  save,  and  suppose  you  are 
one  of  them,  ain't  '  'lected, '  as  my  wife  says.  If  I 
could  be  an  unbelievin'  sinner  for  eighty  years,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  if  anybody  wasn't  'lected  I  wasn't. 
I  was  dreadfully  down,  I  tell  yer,  for  I'd  set  my 
heart  on  bein'  John  Walton's  neighbor  again.  After 
I'd  smoked  a  good  many  pipes,  I  cussed  myself  for 
an  old  fool.  'There,  you've  brought  your  case  into 
court,'  I  says,  c  and  you're  goin'  to  give  it  up  afore 
it's  argued/  Then  I  argued  it.  I  was  honest,  you 
may  be  sure.  It  wouldn't  do  me  any  good  to  petti 
fog  in  this  matter.  First  I  says,  if  there  was  any 
doubt  about  the  Lord  savin'  all  sinners  who 


462  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

wanted  Him  to,  John  Walton  orter  have  spoken 
of  it,  and  from  what  I  know  of  the  man  he  would. 
Then  I  says,  arter  all,  it's  the  Lord  I've  got  to  deal 
with.  Now  what  kind  of  a  Lord  is  He?  Then  I 
commenced  rememberin'  all  that  Miss  Eulie  and  Miss 
Annie  had  read  to  me  about  Him,  and  all  I'd  heard, 
and  I  got  my  wife  to  read  some,  and  my  hopes  grew 
every  minute.  I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Gregory,  it  was 
a  queer  crowd  He  often  had  around  Him.  I'd  kinder 
felt  at  home  among  'em,  'specially  with  that  swearin' 
fisherman  Peter.  Well,  the  upshot  of  it  was,  I 
couldn't  find  that  He  ever  turned  one  sinner  away. 
Then  why  should  He  me?  Then  my  wife,  as  she 
was  readin',  come  across  the  words,  '  Him  that  com- 
eth  to  Me  I  will  in  nowise  cast  out.'  I  had  heard  them 
words  afore  often,  but  it  seemed  now  as  the  first 
time,  and  I  just  shouted,  '  I've  got  His  word  for  it/ 
and  my  wife  thought  I  was  crazy,  sure  'nuff,  for  she 
didn't  know  what  I  was  drivin'  at.  And  now,  Mr. 
Gregory,  you're  just  shut  up  to  two  things,  just  two 
things.  Either  the  Lord  Jesus  will  save  every  sin 
ner  that  comes  to  Him,  or  he  ain't  honest,  and  don't 
mean  what  he  says,  and  won't  do  as  he  used  to.  I 
tell  yer  I'm  settled,  better  settled  than  yonder 
mountain.  I  just  let  myself  go  limber  right  down 
upon  the  promise,  and  it's  all  right.  I'm  going  to  be 
John  Walton's  neighbor  again." 

Gregory  was  more  affected  by  the  old  man's  quaint 
talk  than  he  would  have  believed  possible.  It  seemed 
true  that  he  was  "  shut  up  "  to  one  or  the  other  of 
the  alternatives  presented.  He  commenced  pacing 


" LIVE  !  LIVE  !  n— ANNIES  APPEAL. 

up  and  down  the  little  porch  in  deep  thought.  Mr. 
Tuggar  puffed  away  at  his  pipe  with  such  vigor  that 
he  was  exceedingly  beclouded,  however  clear  his 
mind.  At  last  Gregory  said,  "  I  shall  think  over 
what  you  have  said,  very  carefully,  for  I  admit  it  has 
a  great  deal  of  force  to  my  mind." 

"That's  right,"  said  Mr.  Tuggar;  "argue  it  out, 
just  as  I  did.  Show  yourself  no  favors,  and  be  fair 
to  yourself,  and  you  can't  get  away  from  my  con 
clusion.  You've  got  to  come  to  it." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  come  to  it,"  said  Greg 
ory*  gravely. 

"  I  should  think  you  would.  There'll  be  some 
good  neighbors  up  there,  Mr.  Gregory ;  these  Wai- 
tons  are  all  bound  to  be  there.  Miss  Annie  would 
be  kinder  good  company, — eh,  Mr.  Gregory  ?  " 

In  spite  of  himself  he  flushed  deeply  under  the  old 
man's  keen  scrutiny. 

"There's  one  thing  that's  mighty  'plexing  to  me," 
said  Mr.  Tuggar,  led  to  the  subject  by  its  subtle  con 
nection  with  Gregory's  blush,  "  and  that's  why  the 
Lord  didn't  keep  John  Walton  alive  a  few  minutes 
longer,  so  that  the  marriage  could  take  place." 

Gregory  gave  a  great  start.  "  What  marriage  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  about  it  ?  "  said  Mr.  Tug- 
gar,  in  much  surprise. 

"  No,  nothing  at  all." 

"Then  perhaps  I  ort'n't  ter  speak  of  it." 

"  Certainly  not,  if  you  don't  think  it  right." 

"  Well,  I've  said  so  much  I  might  as  well  say  it 


464  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

all,"  said  the  old  man,  musingly.  "  It's  no  secret,  as 
I  knows  of ;"  and  he  told  Gregory  how  near  Annie 
came  to  being  a  wife. 

Gregory  drew  a  long  breath  and  looked  deathly 
pale  and  faint. 

"  Well,  now,  I'd  no  idea  that  you'd  be  so  struck  of 
a  heap,"  said  the  old  man,  in  still  deeper  surprise. 

"God's  hand  was  in  that,"  murmured  Gregory; 
"  God's  hand  was  in  that." 

"Do  you  think  so,  now?  Well,  it  does  seem 
kinder  cur'us,  and  per'aps  it  was,  for  somehow  I  never 
took  to  that  Hunting,  though  he  seems  all  right." 

"  Good-by,  Mr.  Tuggar,"  said  Gregory,  rising; 
"  you  have  given  me  a  good  deal  to  think  about,  and 
I'm  going  to  think,  and  act,  too,  if  I  can.  I  am  going 
to  New  York  to-morrow,  and  one  of  the  first  things 
I  do  will  be  to  fill  your  pipe  for  a  longtime  ;"  and  he 
pressed  the  old  man's  hand  most  cordially. 

"  Let  yourself  go  limber  when  you  come  to  trust, 
and  it  will  be  all  right,"  were  Daddy  Tuggar's  last 
words,  as  he  balanced  himself  on  his  crutches  in 
parting. 

Gregory  found  Annie  in  the  parlor,  and  he  said, 
"  I  have  good  news  for  you  ;  Daddy  Tuggar  is  a 
Christian." 

Annie  sprung  joyfully  up  and  said,  '-  I'm  going 
over  to  see  him  at  once." 

When  she  returned,  Gregory  was  quietly  reading 
in  the  parlor,  showing  thus  that  he  had  no  wish  to 
avoid  her. 

She.    c^jcne    directly   to    him   and   said,  "Daddy 


"  LIVE  !  LIVE  f  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  465 

Tuggar  says  that  you  propose  going  home  to 
morrow." 

"  Well,  really,  Miss  Walton,  I  have  no  home  to  go 
to ;  but  I  expect  to  return  to  the  city." 

<JNow  I  protest  against  it." 

"I'm  glad  you  do." 

"Then  you  won't  go?" 

"  Yes,  I  must ;  but  I'm  glad  you  don't  wish  me  to 

"  Why  need  you  go  yet  ?  You  ought  not.  You 
should  wait  till  you  are  strong." 

"  That  is  just  why  I  go, — to  get  strong.  I  never 
could  here,  with  you  looking  so  kindly  at  me  as  you 
do  now.  You  see  I  am  as  frank  as  I  promised  to  be. 
So  please  say  no  more,  for  you  cannot  and  you 
ought  not  to  change  my  purpose." 

"  O  dear !  "  cried  Annie,  "  how  one's  faith  is  tried  ! 
Why  need  this  be  so?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,"  he  said,  "  what  little  faith  I 
ever  had  has  been  quite  revived  this  afternoon. 
Daddy  Tuggar  has  been  '  talking  religion  '  to  me,  and, 
pardon  me  for  saying  it,  I  found  his  words  more  con 
vincing  than  even  yours." 

"  I  am  not  jealous  of  him,"  said  Annie,  gladly. 

"  I  can't  help  thinking  that  God  does  see  and  care, 
in  that  He  prevented  your  marriage." 

Annie  blushed  deeply,  and  said,  coldly,  "  I  am 
sorry  you  touched  upon  that  subject,"  and  she  left 
the  room. 

Gregory  went  quietly  on  with  his  reading,  or 
seemed  to  do  so.  Indeed,  he  made  a  strong  effort, 


466  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  succeeded,  for  he  was  determined  to  master  him. 
self  outwardly. 

She  soon  relented  and  came  back.  When  she  saw 
him  apparently  so  undisturbed,  the  thought  came  to 
her,  "  He  has  truly  given  me  up.  There  is  nothing 
of  the  lover  in  that  calmness,  and  he  makes  no  effort 
to  win  my  favor,"  but  she  said,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  I  fear 
I  hurt  your  feelings.  You  certainly  did  mine.  I 
cannot  endure  the  injustice  you  persist  in  doing  Mr. 
Hunting." 

"  I  only  repeat  your  own  words,  *  We  all  three 
shall  understand  each  other  in  God's  good  time;' 
and  after  what  I  heard  to-day,  I  have  the  feeling 
that  He  is  watching  over  you." 

"  Won't  you  promise  not  to  speak  any  more  on 
this  subject?  " 

"  Yes,  for  I  have  done  my  duty.' 

She  took  up  his  book  and  read  to  him,  thus  giving 
one  more  hour  of  mingled  pain  and  pleasure  ;  though 
when  he  thought  how  long  it  would  be  before  he 
heard  that  sweet  voice  again,  if  ever,  his  pain  almost 
reached  the  point  of  anguish.  As  she  turned  toward 
him  and  saw  his  look  of  suffering,  she  realized  some 
what  the  effort  he  had  made  to  keep  up  before  her. 

She  came  to  him  and  said,  "  I  was  about  to  ask  a 
favor,  but  perhaps  it's  hardly  right." 

"  Ask  it,  anyway,"  he  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  don't  urge  it,  but  I  expect  Mr.  Hunting  this 
evening.  Won't  you  come  down  to  supper  and 
meet  him  ?  " 

"  For  your  sake   I  will,   now  that  I  have  gained 


"  LIVE  !  LIVE  !  "—ANNIE' S  APPEAL.  46 7 

some  self-control.  I  am  not  one  to  quarrel  in  a 
lady's  parlor  under  any  provocation.  For  your  sake 
I  will  treat  Mr.  Hunting  like  a  gentleman,  and  make 
my  last  evening  with  you  as  little  of  a  restraint  as 
possible." 

"  Thank  you — thank  you.  You  now  promise  to 
make  it  one  of  peculiar  happiness." 

Annie  drove  to  the  depot  for  Hunting,  and  told  of 
Gregory's  consent  to  meet  him.  She  said,  "  Now  is 
your  opportunity,  Charles.  Meet  him  in  such  a  way 
as  to  make  enmity  impossible." 

His  manner  was  not  very  reassuring,  but,  in  his 
pleasure  at  hearing  that  Gregory  was  soon  to  depart, 
and  that  in  his  absence  Annie's  confidence  in  him 
had  not  been  disturbed,  he  promised  to  do  the  best 
he  could.  She  was  nervously  excited  as  the  moment 
of  meeting  approached,  and,  somewhat  to  her  sur 
prise,  Hunting  seemed  to  share  her  uneasiness. 

Gregory  did  not  come  down  till  the  family  were 
all  in  the  supper-room.  Annie  was  struck  with  his 
appearance  as  he  entered.  Though  his  Left  arm  was 
in  a  sling,  there  was  a  graceful  and  almost  courtly 
dignity  in  his  bearing,  a  brilliancy  in  his  eyes  and  a 
firmness  about  his  mouth,  which  proved  that  he  had 
nerved  himself  for  the  ordeal  and  would  maintain 
himself.  Instantly  she  thought  of  the  time  wh^n  he 
had  first  appeared  in  that  room,  a  half-wrecked,  blast 
man  of  the  world.  Now  he  looked  and  acted  like  a 
nobleman. 

Hunting,  on  the  contrary,  had  a  shuffling  and  em- 
barrassed  manner ;  but  he  approached  Gregory  and 


468  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

held  out  his  hand,  saying,  "  Come,  Mr.  Gregory,  let 
by-gones  be  by-gones." 

But  Gregory  only  bowed  with  the  perfection  of 
distant  courtesy,  and  said,  "Good-evening,  Mr. 
Hunting,"  and  took  his  seat. 

Both  Hunting  and  Annie  blushed  deeply  and  re- 
pentfully.  After  they  were  seated,  Annie  looked 
toward  Hunting  to  say  "  grace"  as  usual,  but  he  could 
not  before  the  man  who  knew  him  so  well,  and  there 
was  another  moment  of  deep  embarrassment,  while. 
a  sudden  satirical  light  gleamed  from  Gregory's  eyes. 
Annie  saw  it,  and  it  angered  her. 

Then  Gregory  broke  the  ice  with  quiet,  well-bred 
ease.  In  natural  tones  he  commenced  conversation, 
addressing  now  one,  now  another,  in  such  a  way  that 
they  were  forced  to  answer  him  in  like  manner.  He 
asked  Hunting  about  the  news  and  gossip  of  the  city 
as  naturally  as  if  they  had  met  that  evening  for  the 
first  time.  He  even  had  pleasant  repartee  with 
Johnny  and  Susie,  who  had  now  come  to  like  him 
very  much,  and  his  manner  toward  Miss  Eulie  was 
peculiarly  gentle  and  respectful,  for  he  was  deeply 
grateful  to  her.  Indeed,  that  good  lady  could  scarcely 
believe  her  eyes  and  ears;  but  Gregory  had  always 
been  an  enigma  to  her.  At  first  he  spoke  to  Annie 
less  frequently  than  to  any  one  else,  for  he  dreaded  the 
cloud  upon  her  brow  and  her  outspoken  truthfulness, 
and  he  was  determined  the  evening  should  pass  off  as 
he  had  planned.  Though  so  crippled  that  his 
food  had  to  be  prepared  for  him,  he  only  made  it  a 
matter  of  graceful  jest,  and  gave  ample  proof  that  a 


<r  LIVE  1  LIVE  !  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  469 

highly  bred  and  cultivated  man  can  be  elegant  in  man« 
ners  under  circumstances  the  most  adverse. 

Even  Annie  thawed  and  relented  under  his  grace* 
ful  tact,  and  felt  that  perhaps  he  was  doing  all  she 
could  expect  in  view  of  the  simple  promise  to  "  treat 
Hunting  like  a  gentleman,  for  her  sake.'*  But  it  had 
pained  her  deeply  that  he  had  not  met  Hunting's  ad 
vances  ;  and  she  saw  that,  though  perfectly  courteous, 
he  was  not  committing  himself  in  the  slightest  de 
gree  toward  reconciliation. 

Moreover,  she  was  excessively  annoyed  that  Hunt 
ing  acted  so  poor  a  part.  It  is  as  natural  for  a 
woman  to  take  pride  in  her  lover  as  to  breathe,  but 
she  could  have  no  pride  in  Hunting  that  evening. 
He  seemed  annoyed  beyond  endurance  with  both 
himself  and  Gregory,  though  he  strove  to  disguise  it. 
He  knew  that  he  was  appearing  to  disadvantage, 
and  this  increased  his  embarrassment,  and  he  was 
most  unhappy  in  his  words  and  manner.  Yet  he 
could  take  exception  at  nothing,  for  Gregory,  secure 
in  his  polished  armor,  grew  more  brilliant  and  enter 
taining  as  he  saw  his  adversary  losing  ground. 

All  were  glad  when  the  supper-hour  was  over  and 
they  could  adjourn  to  the  parlor.  Here  Gregory 
changed  his  tactics,  and  drawing  the  children  aside, 
told  them  a  marvellous  tale  as  a  good-by  souvenir, 
thus  causing  them  to  feel  deep  regret  for  his  depart 
ure.  He  next  drew  Miss  Eulie  into  an  animated  dis 
cussion  upon  a  subject  he  knew  her  to  be  interested 
in.  From  this  he  made  the  conversation  general,  and 
continued  to  speak  to  Hunting  as  naturally  as  if 


470  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

there  were  no  differences  between  them.  But  all 
saw  that  he  was  growing  very  weary,  and  early  in  the 
evening  he  quietly  rose  and  excused  himself,  saying 
that  he  needed  rest  for  his  journey  on  the  morrow. 
There  was  the  same  polite,  distant  bow  to  Hunting 
as  at  first,  and  in  deep  disappointment  Annie 
admitted  that  nothing  had  been  gained  by  the  inter 
view  from  which  she  had  hoped  so  much.  They 
were  no  nearer  reconciliation.  While  Gregory's  man 
ner  had  compelled  respect  and  even  admiration,  it 
had  annoyed  her  excessively,  for  he  had  made  her 
lover  appear  to  disadvantage,  and  she  was  almost 
vexed  with  Hunting  that  he  had  not  been  equal  to 
the  occasion.  She  was  sorry  that  she  had  asked  Greg 
ory  to  come  down  while  Hunting  was  present,  and 
yet  courtesy  seemed  to  require  that  he  should  be 
with  them,  since  he  was  now  sufficiently  well.  Alto 
gether  it  was  a  silent  little  group  that  Gregory  left 
in  the  parlor,  as  all  were  busy  with  their  own 
thoughts. 

Hunting  determined  to  remain  the  following  day 
and  see  Gregory  off  and  out  of  the  way  forever,  he 
hoped. 

The  next  morning  Gregory  did  not  come  down  to 
breakfast.  But  at  about  ten  o'clock  he  started  for  a 
short  farewell  stroll  about  the  old  place.  Annie 
joined  him  in  the  garden. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  were  generous  last 
evening,"  she  said.  "  Mr.  Hunting  met  you  half 
way." 

"Did  I  not  do  just  what  I  promised?" 


"  LIVE  !  LIVE  !  "—ANNIE 'S  APPEAL.  47 1 

"  But  I  was  in  hopes  you  would  do  more,  espe 
cially  when  the  way  was  opened." 

"  Do  you  think,  Miss  Walton,  that  Mr.  Hunting's 
manner  and  feelings  toward  me  were  sincerely  cordial 
and  friendly?  Was  it  the  prompting  of  his  heart, 
or  your  influence,  that  led  him  to  put  out  his  hand  ?  " 

Annie  blushed,  in  conscious  confusion.  "  I  fear 
I  shall  never  reconcile  you,"  she  said,  sadly. 

"  I  fear  not,"  he  replied.  "  There  must  be  a  great 
change  in  us  both  before  you  can.  Though  the  rea 
son  I  give  you  was  a  sufficient  one  for  not  taking  his 
hand  in  friendly  feeling,  it  was  not  the  one  that 
influenced  me.  I  would  not  have  taken  it  under 
any  circumstances." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  grieve  me  most  deeply,"  she 
said,  in  a  tone  of  real  distress.  "  Won't  you,  when 
you  come  to  part,  take  his  hand  for  my  sake,  and  let 
a  little  o$  the  ice  thaw  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  said,  almost  sternly ;  "  not  even  for  your 
sake,  for  whom  I  would  die,  will  I  be  dishonest  with 
myself  or  him ;  and  you  are  not  one  to  ask  me  to 
act  a  lie." 

"  You  wound  me  deeply,  sir ! "  she  said,  coldly. 

"  Faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend,"  he  replied. 

She  did  not  answer. 

w  We  shall  not  part  in  this  way,  Annie,"  he  said, 
ir.  a  low,  troubled  voice. 

"  The  best  I  can  do  is  to  give  you  credit  for  very 
mistaken  sincerity,"  she  answered,  sadly. 

"That  is  all  now,  I  fear,"  replied  he,  gently. 
"Good-by,  Annie  Walton.  We  are  really  parting 


47 2  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

now.  My  mission  to  you  is  past,  and  we  go  our 
different  ways.  You  will  never  believe  anything  I 
can  say  on  this  painful  subject,  and  I  would  not 
have  spoken  of  it  again  of  my  own  accord.  Keep 
your  promise  to  me,  and  all  will  yet  be  well,  I 
believe.  As  that  poor  woman  who  saved  us  in  the 
mountains  said,  *  There  will  at  least  be  one  good 
thing  about  me  Whether  I  can  pray  for  myself  or 
not,  I  shall  daily  pray  for  you  ; '  and  I  feel  that  God, 
who  shielded  you  so  strangely  once,  will  still  guard 
you.  Do  not  grieve  because  I  go  away  with  pain  in 
my  heart.  It's  a  better  kind  of  suffering  than  that 
with  which  I  came,  and  lasting  good  may  come  out 
•of  it,  for  my  old  reckless  despair  is  gone.  If  I  ever 
do  become  a  good  man— a  Christian — I  shall  have 
you  to  thank ;  and  even  heaven  would  be  happier  if 
you  were  the  means  of  bringing  me  there." 

"  When  you  speak  that  way,  Walter,"  she  said, 
tears  starting  to  her  eyes,  "  I  must  forgive  every 
thing  ;  and  when  you  become  a  Christian  you  will 
love  even  your  enemy.  Please  take  this  little  pack 
age  from  me,  but  do  not  open  it  till  you  reach  the 
quiet  and  seclusion  of  your  own  rooms.  Good-by, 
my  brother,  for  as  such  my  father  told  me  to  act  and 
feel  toward  you,  and  from  my  heart  I  obey." 

He  looked  at  her  with  moistened  eyes,  but  did 
not  trust  himself  to  answer,  and  without  another 
word  they  returned  to  the  house. 

Gregory's  leave-taking  from  the  rest  of  the  house 
hold  was  no  mere  form.  Especially  was  this  true  of 
Miss  Eulie,  to  whom  he  said  most  feelingly,  "  Miss 


*'  LIVE  !  LIVE  f  "—ANNIE  'S  APPEAL.  473 

Morton,  my  mother  could  not  have  been  kinder  or 
more  patient  with  me." 

When  he  pressed  Zibbie's  hand  and  left  a  bank 
note  in  it,  she  broke  out  in  the  broadest  Scotch, 
"  Maister  Gregory,  an*  when  I  think  me  auld  gray 
head  would  ha'  been  oot  in  the  stourm  wi'  na  hame 
to  cover  it,  I  pray  the  gude  God  to  shelter  yours  fra 
a*  the  cauld  blasts  o'  the  wourld." 

Silent  Hannah,  alike  favored,  seemed  afflicted  with 
a  sudden  attack  of  St.  Vitus's  dance,  so  indefinite 
was  the  number  of  her  courtesies  ;  while  Jeff,  on  the 
driver's  seat,  looked  as  solemn  as  if  he  were  to  drive 
Gregory  to  the  cemetery  instead  of  the  depot. 

At  the  moment  of  final  parting,  Gregory  merely 
took  Annie's  hand  and  looked  into  her  eyes  with  an 
expression  that  caused  them  speedily  to  droop,  tear- 
blinded. 

To  Hunting  he  had  bowed  his  farewell  in  the 
parlor. 

When  the  last  object  connected  with  his  old  home 
was  hidden  from  his  wistful,  lingering  gaze,  he  said, 
with  the  sorrow  of  one  who  watches  the  sod  placed 
above  the  grave  of  his  dearest,  "  So  it  all  ends." 

But  when  in  his  city  apartments,  which  never 
before  had  seemed  such  a  cheerless  mockery  of  the 
idea  of  home,  he  opened  the  package  Annie  had 
given  him, — when  he  found  a  small,  worn  Bible, 
inscribed  with  the  words,  "  To  my  dear  little  daugh 
ter  Annie,  from  mother,"  and  written  beneath,  in  a 
child's  hand,  "  I  thank  you,  dear  mother.  I  will 
read  it  every  day," — he  sprung  up,  and  exclaimed 


474  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

in  strongest  feeling,  "  No,  all  has  not  ended 
yet." 

When  he  became  sufficiently  calm  he  again  took 
up  the  Bible,  and  found  the  leaves  turned  down  at 
the  I4th  chapter  of  St.  John,  with  the  words,  "  Begin 
here/' 

He  read,  "Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled  :  ye 
believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me. 

"  In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions :  if  it 
were  not  so,  I  would  have  told  you.  I  go  to  prepare 
a  place  for  you." 

"  How  sweetly — with  what  exquisite  delicacy — 
she  points  me  beyond  the  shadows  of  time  !  "  he 
said,  musingly.  "  I  believe  in  God.  I  ever  have. 
Then  why  not  trust  the  '  Man  of  Sorrows,'  who  also 
must  be  God?  Both  Annie  and  her  quaint  old 
friend  are  right.  He  never  turned  one  away  who 
came  sincerely.  In  Him  who  forgave  the  outcast 
and  thief  there  glimmers  hope  for  me.  How  thick 
the  darkness  as  I  look  elsewhere.  Lord  Jesus,"  he 
cried,  with  a  rush  of  tears,  "  I  am  palsied  through 
sin  :  lift  me  up,  that  I  may  come  to  Thee." 

Better  for  him  that  night  than  a  glowing  hearth 
with  genial  friends  around  it  was  Annie's  Bible. 

Looking  at  it  fondly,  he  said,  "  It  links  me  to  her 
happy  childhood  before  that  false  man  came,  and  it 
may  join  me  to  her  in  the  '  place '  which  God  is  pre 
paring,  when  he  who  now  deceives  her  is  as  far 
removed  as  sin." 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

AT    SEA. — A   MYSTERIOUS   PASSENGER. 

IMMEDIATELY  after  Mr.  Walton's  funeral  Miss 
A  Eulie  had  written  to  a  brother-in-law,  then  in 
Europe,  full  particulars  of  all  that  had  occurred. 
This  gentleman's  name  was  Kemp,  and  he  had 
originally  married  a  sister  of  Miss  Eulie  and  Mrs. 
Walton.  But  she  had  died  some  years  since,  and  he 
had  married  as  his  second  wife  one  who  was  an  entire 
stranger  to  the  Walton  family,  and  with  whom  there 
could  be  but  little  sympathy.  For  this  reason, 
though  no  unfriendliness  existed,  there  had  been  a 
natural  falling-off  of  the  old  cordial  intimacy.  Mr. 
Walton  had  respected  Mr.  Kemp  as  a  man  of  ster 
ling  worth  and  unimpeachable  integrity,  and  his 
feelings  were  shared  by  Miss  Eulie  and  Annie,  while 
Mr.  Kemp  himself  secretly  cherished  a  tender  and 
regretful  memory  of  his  earlier  marriage  connection. 
When  he  heard  that  his  niece,  Annie,  was  orphaned, 
his  heart  yearned  toward  her,  for  he  had  always  been 
fond  of  her  as  a  child.  But  when  he  came  to  read 
of  her  relations  with  Hunting,  and  that  this  man  was 
in  charge  of  her  property,  he  was  in  deep  distress. 
He  would  have  returned  home  immediately,  but  his 
wife's  health  would  not  permit  his  leaving  her.  He 


476  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

wrote  to  Miss  Eulie  a  long  letter  of  honest  sympathy, 
urging  her  and  Annie  to  come  to  him  at  Paris,  say 
ing  that  the  change  would  be  of  great  benefit  to 
both. 

This  letter  was  expressed  in  such  a  way  that  it 
could  be  shown  to  Annie.  But  he  enclosed  another 
under  seal  to  the  aunt,  marked  private,  in  which  by 
strong  and  gaarded  language  he  warned  her  against 
Hunting.  He  did  not  dare  commit  definite  charges 
to  writing,  not  knowing  how  much  influence  Hunt 
ing  had  over  Miss  Eulie.  He  felt  sure  that  Annie 
would  not  listen  to  anything  against  her  lover,  and 
justly  feared  that  she  would  inform  him  of  what  she 
heard,  thus  putting  him  on  his  guard,  and  increasing 
his  power  for  mischief.  Mr.  Kemp's  hope  was  to 
act  through  Miss  Eulie,  and  get  both  her  and  Annie 
under  his  protection  as  soon  as  possible.  He  knew 
that  when  he  was  face  to  face  with  Annie  he  could 
prove  to  her  the  character  of  her  lover,  and  through 
her  compel  him  to  resign  his  executorship.  There 
fore  he  solemnly  charged  Miss  Eulie,  as  she  loved 
Annie,  not  to  permit  her  marriage  with  Hunting, 
and,  as  executrix,  to  watch  his  financial  manage 
ment  closely. 

Miss  Eulie  was  greatly  distressed  by  the  contents 
of  this  letter.  Mr.  Kemp's  words,  combined  with 
Gregory's  manner,  destroyed  her  confidence  in  Hunt~ 
ing,  and  made  her  feel  that  he  might  cause  them 
irretrievable  disaster.  She  knew  her  brother  to  be  a 
man  of  honor,  and  when  he  wrote  such  words  as 
these.  "  V  Mr.  Walton  had  known  Hunting  as  I  do 


A  T  SEA.— A  M YSTERIO US  PA SSENGE*.         47 7 

he  would  Bather  have  buried  his  daughter  than  per 
mit  her  to  marry  him,"  she  was  sure  that  he  did  not 
speak  unadvisedly. 

"Moreover,"  Mr.  Kemp  wrote,  "I  am  not  giving 
my  mere  opinion  of  Hunting.  I  have  absolute  proof 
of  what  he  is  and  has  done." 

But  it  was  his  opinion  that  it  would  not  be  safe  to 
reveal  to  Annie  the  contents  of  this  letter,  as  Hunt 
ing,  in  the  desperation  of  his  fears,  might  find  means 
to  compass  a  hasty  marriage,  or  disastrously  use  his 
power  over  her  property. 

As  we  have  seen,  in  quiet  home-ministerings  Miss 
Eulie  had  no  superior,  but  she  felt  peculiarly  timid 
and  self-distrustful  in  dealing  with  matters  like  these. 
Her  first  impulse  and  her  growing  desire  were  that 
she  and  Annie  might  reach  the  shelter  and  protec 
tion  of  her  brother.  She  did  not  understand  busi 
ness,  and  felt  powerless  to  thwart  Hunting. 

Annie's  spirits  greatly  flagged  after  her  father's 
death.  Hunting  did  not  seem  to  have  the  power 
to  comfort  and  help  her  that  she  had  expected  to 
find  in  him.  She  could  not  definitely  find  fault 
with  a  single  act,  save  his  treatment  of  Gregory  ;  he 
was  devotion  itself  to  her,  but  it  was  to  her  alone. 
He  proved  no  link  between  her  and  God.  Even 
when  in  careful  phrases  he  sought  to  use  the  "  lan 
guage  of  Canaan,"  he  did  not  speak  it  as  a  native, 
and  ever  left  a  vague,  unsatisfied  pain  in  her  heart. 
He  was  true  and  strong  when  he  spoke  of  his  own 
love.  He  was  eloquent  and  glowing  when  his 
fancy  painted  their  future  home,  but  cold  and  formal 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

in  comparison  when  he  dwelt  on  that  which  her 
Christian  nature  most  needed  in  her  deep  afflic 
tion. 

When  Annie  found  that  she  could  leave  the  chil 
dren  in  charge  of  a  careful,  trust-worthy  relative,  she 
was  readily  persuaded  into  the  plan  of  going  abroad. 
She  felt  the  need  of  change,  for  her  health  had 
begun  to  fail,  and  she  was  sinking  into  one  of  those 
morbid  states  which  are  partly  physical  and  partly 
mental. 

Hunting,  also,  strongly  approved  of  the  project. 
Business  would  require  him  to  visit  Europe  during  the 
winter,  and  in  having  Annie  as  a  companion  he 
thought  himself  fortunate  indeed.  He  felt  sure  that  as 
soon  as  she  regained  her  health  and  spirits  she  would 
consent  to  their  marriage  ;  moreover,  it  would  place 
the  sea  between  her  and  Gregory,  thus  averting  all 
danger  of  disclosure.  A  trip  abroad  promised  to 
further  his  interests  in  all  respects.  He  knew  noth 
ing  of  Mr.  Kemp  save  as  a  New  York  business  man, 
and  supposed  that  Mr.  Kemp  had  only  a  general  and 
favorable  knowledge  of  himself. 

For  Annie's  sake  and  her  own  Miss  Eulie  tried  to 
prevent  any  marked  change  in  her  manner  toward 
Hunting,  and  though  she  was  not  a  very  good  actress 
he  did  not  .care  enough  about  her  to  notice  her 
occasional  restraints  and  formality  of  manner.  But 
Annie  did,  and  it  was  another  source  of  vague  uneas 
iness  and  pain,  though  the  causes  were  too  intangi 
ble  to  speak  of.  She  thought  it  possible  that  Greg 
ory  had  prejudiced  her  aunt  slightly.  But  it  was 


A  T  SEA .  —A  M  YSTERIO  US  PA  SSENGER.         479 

her  nature  to  prove  all  the  more  loyal  to  Hunting, 
especially  when  he  was  so  devoted  to  her. 

Before  they  could  complete  arrangements  for 
departure,  Annie  was  taken  seriously  ill,  and  January 
of  the  ensuing  year  had  nearly  passed  before  she 
was  strong  enough  for  the  journey.  During  her  ill- 
ness  no  one  could  have  been  more  kind  and  attentive 
than  Hunting,  and  Annie  felt  exceedingly  grateful. 
Still,  in  their  prolonged  and  close  intimacy  since  her 
father's  death,  something  in  the  man  himself  had 
caused  her  love  for  him  to  wane.  She  had  a  growing 
consciousness  that  he  was  not  what  she  had  supposed. 
She  reproached  herself  bitterly  for  this,  and  under 
the  sense  of  the  wrong  she  felt  herself  doing  him, 
was  disposed  to  show  more  deference  to  his  wishes, 
and  in  justice  to  him  to  try  to  make  amends.  When, 
therefore,  he  again  urged  that  the  marriage  take 
place  before  they  sailed,  giving  as  his  reasons  that 
he  could  take  better  care  of  her,  and  that  henceforth 
she  could  be  with  him,  and  that  he  would  not 
be  compelled  to  leave  her  so  often  on  account 
of  his  business,  she  was  half  inclined  to  yield. 
She  felt  that  the  marriage-tie  would  confirm 
her  true  feelings  as  a  wife,  and  that  it  was  hardly 
fair  to  ask  him  to  be  away  from  his  large  and  exacW 
ing  business  so  much,  especially  when  he  had  ap-t 
peared  so  generous  in  the  time  he  had  given  her, 
which  must  have  involved  to  him  serious  loss  and 
inconvenience.  She  said  to  herself,  "  I  shall  be 
better  and  happier,  and  so  will  Charles,  when  I  cease 
secretly  finding  fault  with  him,  and  devote  myself 


480  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

unselfishly  to  making  a  good  wife  and  a  good 
home." 

Hunting  exultantly  thought  that  he  would  carry 
his  point,  but  Miss  Eulie  proved  she  was  not  that 
nonentity  which,  in  his  polite  and  attentive  indif 
ference,  he  had  secretly  considered  her.  With  quiet 
firmness  she  said  that,  as  Annie's  natural  guardian, 
she  would  not  give  her  consent  to  the  marriage. 
As  a  reason  she  said,  "  I  think  it  would  show  a  great 
lack  of  respect  and  courtesy  to  Annie's  uncle  and  my 
brother,  who  is  so  fond  of  her,  and  has  been  so  kind. 
I  see  no  pressing  need  for  the  marriage  now,  for  I 
am  going  with  Annie  and  can  take  care  of  her  as  I 
have  done.  If  it  seems  best,  you  can  be  married 
over  there,  and  I  know  that  Mr.  Kemp  would  feel 
greatly  hurt  if  we  acted  as  if  we  were  indifferent  to 
his  presence  at  the  ceremony." 

The  moment  her  aunt  expressed  this  view  Annie 
agreed  with  her,  and  Hunting  felt  that  he  could  not 
greatly  complain,  as  the  marriage  would  be  delayed 
but  a  few  weeks. 

Annie  felt  absolved  from  her  promise  to  Gregory 
by  an  event  that  occurred  not  very  long  after  his 
departure.  Gregory  had  sent  a  box,  directed  to 
Miss  Eulie's  care,  containing  some  toys  and  books 
for  the  children,  and  the  promised  tobacco  for 
Daddy  Tuggar,  also  a  note  for  Annie,  enclosed  in 
one  to  Miss  Eulie,  in  which  were  these  words  only, 
"  If  you  had  searched  the  world  you  could  not  have 
given  me  anything  that  I  would  value  more." 

In  his  self-distrust,  and  in  his  purpose  not  to  give 


AT  SEA.— A  MYSTERIOUS  PASSENGER.         481 

the  slightest  ground  for  the  imputation  that  he  had 
sought  her  promise  of  delay  to  obtain  time  to  gain 
a  hearing  himself,  he  had  said  no  more.  But  Annie 
thought  that  he  might  have  said  more.  The  note 
seemed  cold  and  brief  in  view  of  all  that  had  passed 
between  them.  Still,  she  hoped  much  from  the 
influence  of  her  Bible. 

One  evening  Hunting  came  up  from  the  city  evi 
dently  much  disturbed.  To  her  expressions  of 
natural  solicitude  he  replied,  "  I  don't  like  to  speak 
of  it,  for  you  seem  to  think  that  I  ought  to  stand 
everything  from  Mr.  Gregory.  And  so  I  suppose  I 
ought,  and  indeed  I  was  grateful,  but  one  can't  help 
having  the  natural  feelings  of  a  man.  I  was  with 
some  friends  and  met  him  face  to  face  in  an  omni 
bus.  Knowing  how  great  was  your  wish  that  we 
should  be  friendly,  I  spoke  courteously  to  him,  but 
he  looked  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  dog.  He  might  as 
well  have  struck  me.  I  saw  that  my  friends  were 
greatly  surprised,  but  of  course  I  could  not  explain 
there,  and  yet  it's  not  pleasant  to  be  treated  like  a 
pickpocket,  with  no  redress.  I  defy  him,"  continued 
Hunting,  assuming  the  tone  and  manner  of  one 
greatly  wronged,  "  to  prove  anything  worse  against 
me  than  that  I  compelled  him  and  his  partners  to 
pay  money  to  which  I  had  a  legal  right,  and  which 
I  could  have  collected  in  a  court  of  law." 

The  politic  Hunting  said  nothing  of  moral  right, 
and  innocent  Annie  was  not  on  the  look-out  for  such 
quibbles. 

Her  quick  feelings  were  strongly  stirred,  and  on 


482  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

the    impulse    of    the  moment  she  sat   down  and 
wrote : 

"  MR.  GREGORY  :  I  think  your  course  toward  Mr. 
Hunting  to-day  was  not  only  unjust,  but  evenungen- 
tlemanly.  You  cannot  hurt  his  feelings  without 
wounding  mine.  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  your 
hostility  is  both  'unreasonable  and  implacable.'  In 
sadness  and  disappointment, 

"  ANNIE  WALTON." 

"  There,"  she  said,  "  read  that,  and  please  mail  it 
for  me." 

"That's  my  noble  Annie,"  he  said,  gratefully. 
"  Now  you  prove  your  love  anew,  and  show  you  will 
not  stand  quietly  by  and  see  me  insulted." 

"  You  may  rest  assured  I  will  not,"  she  said, 
promptly ;  adding  very  sadly  after  a  moment,  "  I 
cannot  understand  how  Mr.  Gregory,  with  all  his  good 
qualities,  can  act  so." 

"  You  do  not  know  him  so  well  as  I  do,"  said  Hunt 
ing  ;  "  and  yet  even  I  feel  grateful  to  him  for  hit 
services  to  you,  and  would  show  it  if  he  would  treat 
me  decently." 

"  He  shall  treat  you  decently,  and  politely  too,  if 
he  wishes  to  keep  my  favor,"  said  she,  hotly. 

But  the  next  day,  when  she  thought  it  all  over 
quietly,  she  regretted  that  she  had  written  so  harshly- 
"  My  words  will  not  help  my  Bible's  influence,"  she 
thought  in  self-reproach,  "  and  only  when  he  becomes 
a  Christian  will  he  show  a  different  disposition." 


AT  SEA.— A  MYSTERIOUS  PASSENGER.         483 

Her  regret  would  have  been  still  deeper,  if  she 
had  known  that  Hunting  had  sent  her  note  with  one 
from  himself  to  this  effect : 

"  You  perceive  from  the  enclosed  that  you  cannot 
insult  me  as  you  did  yesterday  and  still  retain  the 
favor  of  one  whose  esteem  you  value  too  highly  per 
haps.  My  only  regret  is  that  you  were  not  a  wit 
ness  to  the  words  and  manner  which  accompanied 
the  act  of  writing." 

Still  stronger  would  have  been  her  indignation  had 
she  known  that  Hunting  had  greatly  exaggerated 
his  insult.  Gregory  had  merely  acted  as  if  uncon 
scious  of  his  presence,  and  there  had  been  no  look 
of  scorn. 

When  Gregory  received  the  missives  he  tossed 
Hunting's  contemptuously  into  the  fire,  but  read 
Annie's  more  than  once,  sighed  deeply,  and  said, 
"  He  keeps  his  ascendency  over  her.  O  God  !  quench 
not  my  spark  of  faith  by  permitting  this  great  wrong 
to  be  consummated."  Then  he  indorsed  on  her  note, 
"  Forgiven,  my  dear,  deceived  sister.  You  will 
understand  in  God's  good  time." 

But  he  felt  that  God  must  unravel  the  problem, 
for  Annie  would  listen  to  nothing  against  her  lover. 

She  hoped  that  Gregory  would  write  an  explana 
tion,  or  at  least  some  words  in  self-defence,  and  then 
she  meant  to  soften  her  hasty  note,  but  no  answer 
came.  This  increased  her  depression,  and  she  was 
surprised  at  her  strong  and  abiding  interest  in  him. 
She  could  not  understand  how  their  eventful  acquaint 
ance  should  end  as  it  promised  to.  Then  came  her 


484  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

illness,  and  through  many  long,  sleepless  hours,  she 
thought  of  the  painful  mystery. 

As  she  recovered  strength  of  body  and  mind  she 
felt  that  it  was  one  of  those  things  that  she  must 
trustingly  put  in  God's  hands  and  leave  there.  This 
she  did,  and  resolutely  and  patiently  addressed  her- 
self  to  the  duties  of  her  lot. 

As  for  Gregory,  from  the  first  evening  of  his  return 
to  the  city,  he  adopted  the  resolution  in  regard  to 
Annie's  Bible  which  she,  as  a  little  child,  had  written 
in  it  so  many  years  ago,  "  I  will  read  it  every  day." 

It  became  his  shrine  and  constant  solace.  Instead 
of  going  to  his  club,  as  was  his  former  custom,  he 
spent  the  long,  quiet  evenings  in  its  study.  The  more 
he  read  the  more  fascinated  he  became  by  its  rich  and 
varied  truths.  Sometimes  as  he  was  tracing  up  a  line 
of  thought  through  its  pages,  so  luminously  and  beau 
tifully  would  it  develop  that  it  seemed  to  him  that 
Annie  and  his  mother,  with  unseen  hands,  were  point 
ing  the  way.  Though  almost  alone  in  the  great  city, 
he  grew  less  and  less  lonely,  and  welcomed  the 
shades  of  evening,  that  he  might  return  to  a  place 
now  sacred  to  him,  where  the  gift  Bible,  like  a  living 
presence,  awaited  him. 

His  doubts  and  fears  vanished  slowly.  His  faith 
kindled  even  more  slowly  ;  but  the  teachings  of  that 
inspired  Book  gave  him  principle,  true  manhood, 
and  strength  to  do  right,  no  matter  how  he  felt. 
He  had  honestly  and  sturdily  resolved  to  be  guided 
by  it,  and  it  did  guide  him.  He  was  a  Christian^ 
though  he  did  not  know  it,  and  would  not  presume 


A  T  SEA  .—A  M  YS  TERIO  US  PA  SSENGER.         485 

to  call  himself  such  even  to  himself.  In  view  of 
his  evil  past  he  was  exceedingly  humble  and  self- 
distrustful.  As  Mr.  Walton  had  told  poor  old 
Daddy  Tuggar,  he  was  simply  trying  to  "  trust  Jesus 
Christ  and  do  the  best  he  could." 

But  those  associated  with  him  in  business,  and 
many  others,  wondered  at  the  change  in  him.  Old 
Mr.  Burnett,  his  senior  partner,  was  especially 
delighted,  and  would  often  say  to  him,  "  I  thank 
God,  Mr.  Gregory,  that  you  nearly  had  your  neck 
broken  last  October ;  "  for  the  good  old  man  asso 
ciated  this  accident  with  the  change. 

Gregory  also  began  attending  church, — not  a  gor 
geous  temple  on  Fifth  Avenue,  where  he  was  not 
needed ;  but  he  hunted  up  an  obscure  and  strug 
gling  mission,  and  said  to  the  minister,  "  I  am  little 
better  than  a  heathen,  but  if  you  will  trust  me  I 
will  do  the  best  I  can  to  help  you.'* 

Within  a  month,  through  his  liberal  gifts  and 
energetic  labors,  the  usefulness  of  the  mission  was 
almost  doubled.  It  was  touching  to  see  him  hum 
bly  and  patiently  doing  the  Lord's  lowliest  work,  as 
if  he  were  not  worthy.  He  hoped  that  in  time  he 
might  receive  the  glad  assurance  that  he  was 
accepted  ;  but  whether  it  came  or  not,  he  purposed 
to  do  the  best  he  could,  and  leave  his  fate  in  God's 
hands.  At  any  rate  God  seemed  not  against  him, 
for  both  his  business  and  his  Christian  work  pros 
pered. 

One  bright  morning  late  in  January,  Annie,  Miss 
Eulie,  and  Hunting  were  driven  down  to  the  steamer, 


486  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  having  gone  to  their  state-rooms  and  seen  that 
their  luggage  was  properly  stowed  away,  they  came 
up  on  deck  to  watch  the  scenes  attending  the  depart 
ure  of  the  great  ship,  and  observe  the  views  as  they 
sailed  down  the  bay.  Hunting  had  told  them  to 
make  the  most  of  this  part  of  the  voyage,  for  in  a 
winter  passage  it  might  be  long  before  they  could 
enjoy  another  promenade. 

Annie  was  intensely  interested,  for  all  was  new 
and  strange.  She  had  a  keen,  quick  eye  for  charac 
ter,  and  a  human  interest  in  humanity,  even  though 
those  around  her  did  not  belong  to  her  "set." 
Therefore  it  was  with  appreciative  eyes  that  she 
watched  the  motley  groups  of  her  fellow-passengers 
waving  handkerchiefs  and  exchanging  farewells  with 
equally  diversified  groups  on  the  wharf. 

"  It  seems,"  she  said  to  her  aunt,  "  as  if  all  the 
world  had  sent  their  representatives  here.  It  makes 
me  almost  sad  that  there  is  no  one  to  see  us  off." 

Then  her  eye  rested  upon  a  gentleman  who  evi 
dently  had  no  one  to  see  him  off.  He  was  lean 
ing  on  the  railing  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  ship, 
smoking  a  cigar.  His  back  was  toward  all  this 
bustle  and  confusion,  and  he  seemed  to  have  an  air 
of  isolation  and  of  indifference  to  what  was  going 
on  about  him.  His  tall  person  was  clad  in  a  heavy 
overcoat,  which  seemed  to  combine  comfort  with 
elegance,  and  gave  to  him,  even  in  his  leaning  post 
ure,  a  distingut  air.  But  that  which  drew  Annie's 
attention  was  the  difference  of  his  manner  from  that 
of  all  others,  who  were  either  excited  by  their  sur- 


A  T  SEA  .—A  MYS  TERIO  US  PA  SSENGER.          487 

roundings,  or  were  turning  wistfully  and  eagerly 
toward  friends  whom  it  might  be  long  before  they 
saw  again.  The  motionless,  apathetic  figure,  smok 
ing  quietly,  with  his  hat  drawn  down  over  his  eyes, 
and  looking  away  from  everything  and  everybody, 
came  to  have  a  fascination  for  her. 

The  steamer  slowly  and  majestically  moved  out 
into  the  stream.  Shouts,  cries,  final  words,  hoarse 
orders  from  the  officers, — a  perfect  babel  of  sounds, 
— filled  the  air,  but  the  silently-curling  smoke-wreaths 
were  the  only  suggestion  of  life  from  that  strangely 
indifferent  form.  He  seemed  like  one  so  deeply 
absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts  that  he  would  have  to 
be  awakened  as  from  sleep. 

Suddenly  he  turned  and  came  toward  them  with 
the  air  of  one  who  feels  himself  alone,  though  jostled 
in  a  crowd,  and  instantly,  with  a  strange  thrill  at 
heart,  Annie  recognized  Walter  Gregory. 

Hunting  saw  him  also,  and  Annie  noted  that, 
while  the  blackest  frown  gathered  on  his  brow,  he 
grew  very  pale. 

In  his  absorption,  Gregory  would  have  passed  by 
them,  but  Annie  said,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  are  you  not 
going  to  speak  to  us  ?  " 

He  started  violently,  and  his  face  mantled  with 
hot  blood,  and  Annie  also  felt  that  she  was  blush 
ing  unaccountably.  But  he  recovered  instantly, 
and  came  and  shook  her  hand  most  cordially,  saying, 
"  This  is  a  strangely  unexpected  pleasure.  And 
Miss  Morton,  also  !  When  was  I  ever  so  fortunate 
before?" 


488  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Then  he  saw  Hunting,  to  whom  he  bowed  with 
his  old,  distant  manner,  and  Hunting  returned  the 
acknowledgment  in  the  most  stiff  and  formal  way. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Annie,  "  I  have  been  watch 
ing  you  with  curiosity  for  some  time  past,  though  I  did 
not  know  who  you  were  till  you  turned.  I  could 
not  account  for  your  apathy  and  indifference  to 
this  scene,  which  to  me  is  so  novel  and  exciting, 
and  which  seems  to  find  every  one  interested 
save  yourself.  I  should  hardly  have  thought  you 
alive  if  you  had  not  been  smoking." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  have  been  abroad  so  often 
that  it  has  become  like  crossing  the  ferry,  and  I  was 
expecting  no  one  down  to  see  me  off.  But  you  do 
not  look  well ;  "  and  both  she  and  Miss  Eulie  noticed 
that  he  glanced  uneasily  from  her  to  Hunting,  and 
did  not  seem  sure  how  he  should  address  her. 

"  Miss  Walton  has  just  recovered  from  a  long  ill 
ness,"  said  Miss  Eulie,  quietly. 

His  face  instantly  brightened,  and  as  quickly 
changed  to  an  expression  of  sincerest  sympathy. 

"  Not  seriously  ill,  I  hope,"  he  said,  earnestly. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  was,"  replied  Annie,  adding,  cheer- 
ully,  u  I  am  quite  well  now,  though." 

His  face  became  as  pale  as  it  had  been  flushed  a 
moment  before,  and  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  I  did 
not  know  it." 

His  manner  touched  her,  and  proved  that  there 
was  no  indifference  on  his  part  toward  her,  though 
there  might  be  to  the  bustling  world  around  him. 

Then  he  inquired  particularly  after  each  member 


A  T  SEA.— A  MYSTERIOUS  PASSENGER.         489 

of  the  household,  and  especially  after  old  Daddy 
Tuggar. 

Annie  told  him  how  delighted  the  children  had 
been  with  the  toys  and  books.  "  And  as  for  Daddy 
Tuggar,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  he  has  been  in  the 
clouds,  literally  and  metaphorically,  ever  since  you 
sent  him  the  tobacco.  Whenever  I  go  to  see  him 
he  says,  most  cheerfully,  '  It's  all  settled,  Miss 
Annie.  It  grows  clearer  with  every  pipe '  (while  I 
can  scarcely  see  him),  '  I'm  all  right,  'cause  I'm  an 
awful  sinner.' ' 

She  was  rather  surprised  at  the  look  of  glad  sym 
pathy  which  Gregory  gave  her,  but  he  only  said, 
"  He  is  to  be  envied." 

Then  at  her  request  he  began  to  point  out  the 
objects  of  interest  they  were  passing,  and  with  quiet 
courtesy  drew  Hunting  into  the  conversation,  who 
rather  ungraciously  permitted  it  because  he  could 
not  help  himself. 

Annie  again,  with  pain,  saw  the  unfavorable  con 
trast  of  her  lover  with  this  man,  who  certainly  proved 
himself  the  more  finished  gentleman,  if  nothing 
else. 

With  almost  a  child's  delight  she  said,  "  You  have 
no  idea  how  novel  and  interesting  all  this  is  to  me, 
though  so  old  and  matter-of-fact  to  you.  I  have 
always  wanted  to  cross  the  ocean,  and  look  forward 
to  this  voyage  with  unmingled  pleasure." 

"  I'm  sincerely  sorry  such  a  disastrous  change  is 
so  soon  to  take  place  in  your  sensations,  for  it  will 
be  rough  outside  to-day,  and  I  fear  you  and  Miss 


490  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Morton  will  soon  be  suffering  from  the  most  forlorn 
and  prosaic  of  maladies." 

"  I  won't  give  up  to  it,"  said  Annie,  resolutely. 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  he  replied,  humorously,  "  as 
our  quaint  old  friend  used  to  say,  that  you  are  *  well- 
meaninY  but  we  must  all  submit  to  fate.  I  fear  you 
urill  soon  be  confined  to  the  dismal  lower  regions." 

"Are  you  sick?  " 

"  I  was  at  first." 

His  prediction  was  soon  verified.  From  almost  a 
Seeling  of  rapture  and  a  sense  of  the  sublime  as  they 
looked  out  upon  the  broad  Atlantic  with  its  tumult 
uous  waves,  the  ladies  suddenly  became  silent,  and 
glanced  nervously  toward  the  stairway  that  led  to 
the  cabin. 

Gregory  promptly  gave  his  arm  to  Miss  Eulie, 
while  Hunting  followed  with  Annie,  and  that  was 
the  last  appearance  of  the  ladies  for  three  days. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

COLLISION  AT  SEA.— WHAT  A  CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO 

ON  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day,  as  the  sea  had 
become  more  calm,  the  ladies  ventured  upon 
deck  for  a  short  time.  Gregory  immediately  joined 
them  and  complimented  their  courage  in  coming 
out  during  a  winter  voyage. 

"  Nature  and  I  are  friends  all  the  year  round," 
said  Annie,  with  a  faint  attempt  at  a  smile,  for  she 
was  still  sick  and  faint.  "  I  rather  like  her  wild, 
rough  moods.  It  has  been  a  great  trial  to  my 
patience  to  lie  in  my  berth,  helpless  and  miserable 
from  what  you  well  term  a  '  prosaic  malady,'  when 
I  was  longing  to  see  the  ocean.  Now  that  we  have 
made  a  desperate  attempt  to  reach  deck,  there  is 
nothing  to  see.  Do  you  think  this  dense  fog  will 
last  long?  " 

"  I  hope  not,  especially  for  your  sake.  But  do 
not  regret  coming  out,  for  you  will  soon  feel  better 
for  it." 

"  I  do  already;  I  believe  I  could  live  out  of  doors. 
Have  you  been  ill  ?  " 

"  O  no ;  I  should  have  been  a  sailor." 

"Mr.  Hunting  has  fared  almost  as  badly  as  we," 
said  Annie,  determined  that  they  should  make  one 
group. 


492  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Indeed  !  I'm  sorry,"  said  Gregory,  quietly. 

"  I  hate  the  ocean,"  snarled  Hunting,  with  a  grim, 
white  face  ;  "  I'm  always  sick." 

"  And  I'm  afraid  of  it,"  said  Miss  Eulie.  "  How 
can  they  find  their  way  through  such  a  mist  ?  Then, 
we  might  run  into  something." 

"  In  any  case  you  are  safe,  Miss  Morton,"  said 
Gregory,  with  a  smile. 

She  gave  him  a  bright  look  and  replied,  "  I  trust 
we  all  are.  But  the  sea  is  rough,  boisterous,  treach 
erous,  and  mysterious,  just  the  qualities  I  don't 
like.  What  a  perfect  emblem  of  mystery  this  fog  is 
through  which  we  are  going  so  rapidly  !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Gregory,  with  one  of  his  expressive 
shrugs,  "  I  find  all  these  experiences  equally  on  the 
land,  especially  the  latter." 

Annie  gave  him  a  quick,  inquiring  look,  while 
color  came  into  even  Hunting's  pale  face. 

Annie  felt  no  little  curiosity  as  to  Gregory's  devel 
oping  character,  for  though  he  had  said  nothing  def 
inite,  his  softened  manner  and  quiet  dignity  made  him 
seem  very  unlike  his  old  self. 

"  How  do  you  pass  your  time?  "  she  asked. 

"  Well,  I  read  a  great  deal,  and  I  take  considera 
ble  exercise,  for  I  wish  fully  to  regain  my 
health." 

She  gave  him  a  grateful  look.  He  was  keeping 
his  promise.  She  said,  "  You  look  very  much  bet 
ter  than  I  expected  to  see  you,  and  I'm  very  glad, 
for  you  were  almost  ghostly  when  you  left  us. 
What  do  you  find  so  interesting  to  read  ?" 


WHA  T  A  CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO.  493 

His  color  rose  instantly,  but  he  said  with  a  smile, 
"A  good  old  book  that  I  brought  with  me.  " 

The  expression  of  his  face  answered  her  swift, 
questioning  look.  It  was  her  Bible.  Neither  Miss 
Eulie  nor  Hunting  understood  why  she  became  so 
quiet  ;  but  the  latter,  who  was  watching  them  closely, 
thought  he  detected  some  secret  understanding.  In 
his  jealous  egotism  it  could  only  mean  what  was 
adverse  to  himself,  and  he  had  an  attack  of  some 
thing  worse  than  sea-sickness. 

Gregory  quietly  turned  the  conversation  upon 
ocean  travel,  and  for  a  half-hour  entertained  the 
ladies  without  any  effort  on  their  part,  and  then  they 
went  back  to  their  state-rooms. 

By  evening  the  ship  was  running  so  steadily  that 
they  all  came  out  to  supper.  Gregory,  who  was  a 
personal  friend  of  the  captain,  had  secured  them  a 
place  near  the  head  of  the  table,  where  they  received 
the  best  of  attention.  Annie,  evidently,  was  recov 
ering  rapidly,  and  took  a  genuine  interest  in  the 
novel  life  and  scenes  around  her.  She  found  herself 
vis-ci-vis  and  side  by  side  with  great  diversities  of 
character,  and  listened  with  an  amused,  intelligent 
face  to  the  brisk  conversation.  She  noted  with  sur 
prise  that  Gregory  seemed  quite  a  favorite,  but  soon 
saw  the  reason  in  his  effort  to  make  the  hour  pass 
pleasantly  to  his  fellow-passengers.  The  captain 
had  given  him  a  seat  at  his  right  hand,  and  appealed 
to  him  on  every  disputed  point  that  was  outside  of 
his  special  province. 

She  was  also  pleased   to  see  how  Gregory  toned 


494  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

up  the  table-talk  and  skilfully  led  it  away  from  dis 
agreeable  topics.  But  he  had  a  rather  difficult  task, 
for,  sitting  near  her,  was  a  man  whose  ostentatious 
dress  reflected, his  character  and  words. 

Some  one  was  relating  an  anecdote  of  a  narrow 
escape,  and  another  remarked,  "  That's  what  I  should 
call  a  special  Providence." 

"  Special  Providence !  "  said  Annie's  loud  neigh 
bor,  contemptuously.  "  A  grown  man  is  very  weak- 
minded  to  believe  in  any  Providence  whatever." 

There  was  a  shocked,  pained  expression  on  many 
faces,  and  Annie's  eyes  flashed  with  indignation. 
She  turned  to  Hunting,  expecting  him  to  resent 
such  an  insult  to  their  faith,  but  saw  only  a  cold 
sneer  on  his  face.  Hunting  was  decidedly  English 
in  his  style,  and  would  travel  around  the  world  and 
never  speak  to  a  stranger,  or  make  an  acquaintance, 
if  he  could  help  it.  Then,  instinctively,  she  turned 
to  Gregory.  He  was  looking  fixedly  at  the  man, 
whose  manner  had  attracted  general  attention.  But 
he  only  said,  quietly,  "Then  I  am  very  weak- 
minded." 

There  was  a  general  expression  of  pleased  surprise 
and  sympathy  on  the  faces  of  those  who  understood 
his  reply,  while  the  captain  stared  at  him  in  some 
astonishment. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  man  ;  "  I  meant 
nothing  personal.  It  was  only  a  rather  blunt  way  of 
saying  that  I  didn't  believe  in  any  such  things  myself." 

"  I  give  you  credit  for  your  honesty,  but  some  of 
us  do." 


WHAT  A  CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO.  49$ 

"  Then  you  pretend  to  be  a  Christian  ?  " 

"  I  should  not  pretend  to  be  one  under  any  cir 
cumstances,"  said  Gregory,  with  the  perfection  of 
quiet  dignity,  "  and  I  am  very  sorry  to  say  that  I 
am  not  so  favored.  But  I  have  full  belief  in  a  Prov 
idence,  both  special  and  general." 

"  I  like  your  honesty,  too,"  said  the  man,  seem 
ingly  anxious  for  an  argument.  "  By  the  word  '  pre 
tend  '  I  only  meant  claim,  or  assert.  But  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  facts  in  the  case  are  all  against  your 
belief.  I  find  nothing  but  law  in  the  universe.  You 
might  as  well  say  that  this  ship  is  run  by  special 
Providence,  when,  in  fact,  it  is  run  by  accurately 
gauged  machinery,  system,  and  rules." 

"  Now  your  argument  is  lame,"  said  the  captain, 
laughing.  "  We  have  plenty  of  good  machinery, 
system,  and  rules  aboard,  but  if  I  wasn't  around, 
looking  after  everything  all  the  time,  as  a  special 
Providence,  I'm  afraid  you'd  find  salt  water  before 
Liverpool." 

A  general  laugh  followed  this  sally,  and  Gregory 
said  :  "  And  so  I  believe  that  the  Divine  Providence 
superintends  His  own  laws  and  system.  I  think  my 
friend  the  captain  has  given  a  most  happy  illustra 
tion  of  the  truth,  and  I  had  no  idea  he  was  so  good 
a  theologian." 

"  That's  not  an  argument,"  said  the  man,  consid 
erably  crest-fallen.  "  That's  only  a  joke." 

"  By  the  way,  Mr.  Gregory,  it  seems  to  me  that 
your  views  have  changed  since  you  crossed  with  me 
last,"  remarked  the  captain. 


496  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"I  frankly  admit  they  have,"  was  the  prompt 
reply.  "  Perhaps  I  can  explain  myself  by  the  fol 
lowing  question :  If  you  find,  by  a  careful  obser 
vation,  that  you  are  heading  your  ship  the  wrong 
way,  what  do  you  do  ?  " 

"  Put  her  about  on  the  right  course." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  have  tried  to  do,  sir.  I  think 
my  meaning  is  plain?" 

"  Nothing  could  be  clearer,  and  I'd  rather  be 
aboard  now  than  when  you  were  on  the  old  tack." 

Annie  gave  Gregory  a  glance  of  glad,  grateful 
approval  that  warmed  his  heart  like  sunshine. 

Hunting  said,  enviously,  sotto  voce,  "  I  think  such 
conversation  at  a  public  table  wretched  taste." 

"  I  cannot  agree  with  you,"  said  Annie,  decidedly; 
"  but,  granting  it,  Mr.  Gregory  did  not  introduce 
the  subject,  and  I  wish  you  had  spoken  as  he  did 
when  every  Christian  at  the  table  was  insulted." 

He  colored  deeply,  but  judiciously  said  nothing. 

With  increasing  pain  she  thought,  "  He  who  says 
he  is  not  a  Christian  acts  more  like  one  than  he  who 
claims  the  character." 

But  she  now  had  the  strongest  hopes  for  Gregory, 
and  longed  for  a  private  talk  with  him. 

The  next  day  it  blew  quite  a  gale,  and  Hunting  and 
Miss  Eulie  were  helplessly  confined  to  their  state 
rooms.  But  Annie  had  become  a  sailor,  and  having 
done  all  she  could  for  her  aunt,  came  upon  deck, 
where  she  saw  Gregory  walking  back  and  forth  with 
almost  the  steadiness  of  one  of  the  ship's  officers. 

She  tried  to  go  to  him,  but  would  have  teilen  had 


WHA  T  A  CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO.  497 

he  not  seen  her  and  reached  her  side  almost  at  a 
bound.  With  a  gentleness  and  tenderness  as  real 
as  delicate,  he  placed  her  in  a  sheltered  nook  where 
she  could  see  the  waves  in  their  mad  sport,  and 
said,  "  Now  you  can  see  old  ocean  in  one  of  his  best 
moods.  The  wind,  though  strong,  is  right  abaft, 
filling  all  the  sails  they  dare  carry,  and  we  are  mak 
ing  grand  progress." 

"  How  wonderful  it  is  !  "  cried  Annie,  looking 
with  a  child's  interest  upon  the  scene.  "  Just  see 
those  briny  mountains,  with  foam  and  spray  for 
foliage.  If  our  own  Highlands  with  their  mingled 
evergreens  and  snow  were  changed  from  granite  to 
water,  and  set  in  this  wild  motion,  it  could  hardly 
seem  more  strange  and  sublime.  Look  at  that  great 
monster  coming  so  threateningly  toward  us.  It 
seems  as  if  we  should  be  ingulfed  beyond  a  chance." 

"  Now  see  how  gracefully  the  ship  will  surmount 
it,"  said  Gregory,  smiling. 

"  O  dear  !  "  said  she,  sighing,  "  if  we  could  only 
rise  above  our  troubles  in  the  same  way  ! "  Then, 
feeling  that  she  had  touched  on  delicate  ground, 
she  hastened  to  add,  "This boundless  waste  increases 
my  old  childish  wonder  how  people  ever  find  their 
way  across  the  ocean." 

"  The  captain  is  even  now  illustrating  your  own 
teaching  and  practice  in  regard  to  the  longer  and 
more  difficult  voyage  of  life,"  said  Gregory,  mean 
ingly.  "  He  is  '  looking  up/ — taking  an  observation 
of  the  heavens,  and  will  soon  know  just  where  we 
are  and  how  to  steer." 


498  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Annie  looked  at  him  wistfully,  and  said,  in  a  low 
tone,  "  I  was  so  glad  to  learn,  last  evening,  that  you 
had  taken  an  observation  also,  and  I  was  so  very 
grateful,  too,  that  you  had  the  courage  to  defend 
our  faith." 

"  I  have  to  thank  you  that  I  could  do  either.  It 
was  really  you  who  spoke.'* 

"  No,  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  said,  gently,  "  my  work 
for  you  reached  its  limit.  God  is  leading  you 
now." 

"  I  try  to  hope  so,"  he  said  ;  "but  it  was  your 
hand  that  placed  in  mine  that  by  which  He  is  lead 
ing  me.  He  surely  must  have  put  it  into  your  heart 
to  give  me  that  Bible.  When  I  reached  my  cheer 
less  rooms  in  New  York  I  felt  so  lonely  and  low- 
spirited  that  I  had  not  the  courage  to  go  a  single 
step  farther.  But  your  Bible  became  a  living,  com 
forting  presence  from  that  night.  What  exquisite 
tact  you  showed  in  giving  me  that  little  worn  com 
panion  of  your  childhood,  instead  of  a  new  gilt, 
leaved  one,  with  no  associations.  I  first  hoped  that 
you  might  with  it  give  me  also  something  of  your 
childhood's  faith.  But  that  does  not  come  yet. 
That  does  not  come." 

"  It  will,"  said  she,  earnestly,  and  with  moistened 
eyes. 

"  That,  now,  is  one  of  my  dearest  hopes.  But 
after  what  I  have  been,  I  am  not  worthy  that  it 
should  come  soon.  But  if  I  perish  myself  I  want  to 
try  to  help  others." 

Then  he  asked,  in  honest  distrustfulness,    "  Do 


WHA  T  A  CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO.  499 

you  think  it  right  for  one  who  is  not  a  Christian  to 
try  to  teach  others  ?  " 

"  Before  I  answer  that  question  I  wish  to  ask  a 
little  more  about  yourself ;  "  and  she  skilfully  drew 
him  out,  he  speaking  more  openly  in  view  of  the 
question  to  be  decided  than  he  would  otherwise 
have  done.  He  told  of  the  long  evenings  spent 
over  her  Bible ;  of  his  mission  work,  and  of  his  hon 
est  effort  to  deal  justly  with  all ;  at  the  same  time 
dwelling  strongly  on  his  doubts  and  spiritual  dark 
ness,  and  the  unspent  influences  of  his  old  evil  life. 

The  answer  was  different  from  what  he  expected ; 
for  she  said  :  "  Mr.  Gregory,  wny  do  you  say  that 
you  are  not  a  Christian  ?  " 

"  Because  I  feel  that  I  am  not." 

"  Does  feeling  merely  make  a  Christian  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  Is  not  action  more  than  feeling  ?  Do  not 
trusting,  following,  serving,  and  seeking  to  obey, 
make  a  Christian  ?  But  suppose  that  even  with  your 
present  feeling  you  were  living  at  the  time  of  Christ's 
visible  presence  on  earth,  would  you  be  hostile  or 
indifferent,  or  would  you  join  His  band  even  though 
small  and  despised  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  would  do  the  latter,  if  permitted." 

"  I  know  you  would,  from  your  course  last  night. 
And  do  you  think  Jesus  would  say,  '  Because  you 
are  not  an  emotional  man  like  Peter,  you  are  no 
friend  of  mine'?  Why,  Mr.  Gregory,  He  let  even 
Judas  Iscariot,  though  with  unworthy  motive,  fol 
low  Him  as  long  as  he  would,  giving  him  a  chance 
to  become  true." 


500  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Miss  Walton,  do  not  mislead  me  in  this  matter. 
You  know  how  implicitly  I  trust  you." 

"  And  I  would  rather  cast  myself  over  into  those 
waves  than  deceive  you,"  she  said ;  "  and  if  I  saw 
them  swallowing  you  up  I  should  as  confidently 
expect  to  meet  you  again,  as  my  father.  How 
strange  it  is  you  can  believe  that  Jesus  died  for  you 
and  yet  will  not  receive  you  when  you  are  doing 
just  that  which  He  died  to  accomplish." 

He  took  a  few  rapid  turns  up  and  down  the  deck 
and  then  leaned  over  the  railing.  She  saw  that  he 
brushed  more  than  one  tear  into  the  waves.  At  last 
he  turned  and  gave  his  hand  in  warm  pressure,  say 
ing,  "I  cannot  doubt  you,  and  I  will  doubt  Him  no 
longer.  I  see  that  I  have  wronged  Him,  and  the 
thought  causes  me  sorrow  even  in  my  joy." 

"  Now  you  are  my  brother  in  very  truth,"  she  said, 
gently,  with  glad  tears  in  her  own  eyes.  "All  that 
we  have  passed  through  has  not  been  in  vain.  How 
wonderfully  God  has  led  us  !  " 

It  was  a  long  time  before  either  spoke  again. 

At  last  he  said,  with  a  strange,  wondering  smile, 
"To  think  that  such  as  I  should  ever  reach  heaven! 
As  Daddy  Tuggar  says,  '  there  will  be  good  neigh, 
bors  there/" 

She  answered  him  by  a  happy  smile,  and  then 
both  were  busy  with  their  own  thoughts  again. 
Annie  was  thinking  how  best  to  introduce  the  sub, 
ject  so  near  her  heart,  his  reconciliation  with  Hunt 
ing. 

But  that  gentleman  had  become  so  tortured  witi 


WHA  T  A  CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO.  $OI 

jealousy  and  so  alarmed  at  the  thought  of  any  pro- 
longed  conference  between  Annie  and  Gregory,  that 
he  dragged  himself  on  deck.  As  he  watched  them 
a  moment  before  they  saw  him,  he  was  quite  re 
assured.  Gregory  was  merely  standing  near  Annie, 
and  both  were  looking  away  to  sea,  as  if  they  had 
nothing  special  to  say  to  each  other.  Annie  was 
pained  to  see  that  Gregory's  munner  did  not  change 
toward  Hunting.  He  was  perfectly  polite,  but 
nothing  more ;  soon  he  excused  himself,  thinking 
they  would  like  to  be  alone. 

In  the  afternoon  she  found  a  moment  to  say, 
"  Mr.  Gregory,  will  you  never  become  reconciled  to 
Mr.  Hunting?  You  surely  cannot  hate  him  now?" 

He  replied,  gravely,  "  I  do  not  hate  him  any 
longer.  I  would  do  him  any  kindness  in  my  power, 
and  that  is  a  great  deal  for  me  to  say.  But  Mr. 
Hunting  has  no  real  wish  for  reconciliation." 

In  bitter  sorrow  she  was  compelled  to  admit  to 
herself  the  truth  of  his  words.  After  a  moment  he 
added,  "  If  he  does  he  knows  the  exact  terms  on 
which  it  can  be  effected." 

She  could  not  understand  it,  and  reproached  her 
self  bitterly  that  so  many  doubts  in  regard  to  her 
affianced  would  come  unbidden,  and  force  them 
selves  on  her  mind.  The  feeling  grew  stronger  that 
there  was  wrong  on  both  sides,  and  perhaps  the  more 
on  Hunting's. 

That  was  a  memorable  day  to  Gregory.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  Annie's  hand  had  drawn  aside 
the  sombre  curtain  of  his  unbelief,  and  shown  the 


502  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

path  of  light  shining  more  and  more  unto  the  pen 
feet  day.  Though  comparatively  lonely,  he  felt  that 
his  pilgrimage  could  not  now  be  unhappy,  and  that 
every  sorrow  would  at  last  find  its  cure.  In  regard 
to  her  earthly  future  he  could  only  hope  and  trust. 
It  would  be  a  terrible  trial  to  his  faith  if  she  were  per 
mitted  to  marry  Hunting,  and  yet  he  was  sure  it 
would  all  be  well  at  last ;  for  was  it  not  said  that 
God's  people  would  come  to  their  rest  out  of  "  great 
tribulation  "  ?  She  had  given  him  the  impression 
that,  under  any  circumstances,  her  love  for  him 
could  only  be  sisterly  in  its  character. 

But  he  was  too  happy  in  his  new-born  hope  to 
think  of  much  else  that  day  ;  and,  finding  a  secluded 
nook,  he  searched  Annie's  Bible  for  truths  confirm 
atory  of  her  words.  On  every  side  they  glowed  as 
in  letters  of  light.  Then  late  that  night  he  went  on 
deck,  and  in  his  strong  excitement  felt  as  if  walking 
on  air  in  his  long,  glad  vigil. 

At  last,  growing  wearied,  he  leaned  upon  the  rail 
ing  and  looked  out  upon  the  dark  waves, — not  dark 
to  him,  for  the  wanderer  at  last  had  seen  the  light 
of  his  heavenly  home,  and  felt  that  it  would  cheer 
his  way  till  the  portals  opened  and  received  him  into 
rest. 

Suddenly,  upon  the  top  of  a  distant  wave,  some 
thing  large  and  white  appeared,  and  then  sank  into 
an  ocean  valley.  Again  it  rose, — a  sail,  then  the 
dark  hull  of  a  ship. 

In  dreamy  musing  he  began  wondering  how,  in 
mid-ocean,  with  so  many  leagues  of  space,  two  ves* 


WHAT  A   CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO.  503 

sels  should  cross  each  other's  track  so  near.  "  It's 
just  the  same  with  human  lives,"  he  thought.  "  A 
few  months  or  years  ago,  people  that  I  never  knew, 
and  might  have  passed  on  the  wider  ocean  of  life,  un 
knowing  and  uncaring,  have  now  come  so  near! 
Why  is  it  ?  Why  does  that  ship,  with  the  whole 
Atlantic  before  it,  come  so  steadily  toward  us  ?  " 

It  did  come  so  steadily  and  so  near  that  a  feeling 
of  uneasiness  troubled  him,  but  he  thought  that  those 
in  charge  knew  their  business  better  than  he. 

A  moment  later  he  started  forward.  The  ship 
that  had  come  so  silently  and  phantom-like  across 
the  waves  seemed  right  in  the  path  of  the  steamer. 

Was  it  not  a  phantom? 

No  ;  there's  a  white  face  at  the  wheel — the  man 
is  making  a  sudden,  desperate  effort — it's  too  late. 

With  a  crash  like  thunder  the  seeming  phantom 
ship  ploughs  into  the  steamer's  side. 

For  a  moment  Gregory  was  appalled,  stunned ; 
and  stared  at  the  fatal  intruder  that  fell  back  in 
strong  rebound,  and  dropped  astern. 

Then  he  became  conscious  of  the  confusion  and 
awakening  uproar  on  both  vessels.  Cries  of  agony, 
shouts  of  alarm,  and  hoarse  orders  pierced  the  mid 
night  air.  He  ran  forward  and  saw  the  yawning 
cavern  which  the  blow  had  made  in  the  ship's  side, 
and  heard  the  rush  of  water  into  the  hold.  Across 
the  chasm  he  saw  the  captain's  pale  face  looking 
down  with  a  dismay  like  his  own. 

"  The  ship  will  sink,  and  soon,"  Gregory  shouted* 

There  was  no  denial. 


504  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Down  to  the  startled  passengers  he  rushed,  crying, 
"  Awake  !  Escape  for  your  lives  !  " 

His  words  were  taken  up  and  echoed  in  every  part 
of  the  ship. 

He  struck  a  heavy  blow  upon  the  door  of  Annie's 
state-room.  "  Miss  Walton  !  " 

"  Oh,  what  has  happened  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  and  Miss  Morton  come  on  deck,  instantly ; 
don't  stop  to  dress ;  snatch  a  shawl, — anything.  Lose 
not  a  moment.  What  is  Hunting's  number?" 

"  Forty,  on  the  opposite  side." 

"  I  will  be  back  in  a  moment ;  be  ready." 

Hunting's  state-room  was  so  near  where  the 
steamer  had  been  struck  that  its  door  was  jammed 
and  could  not  be  opened. 

"  Help !  help  !  I  can't  get  out,"  shrieked  the  ter 
rified  man. 

Gregory  wrenched  a  leaf  from  a  dining-room 
table  and  pried  the  door  open. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  you've  no  time  to  dress." 

Hunting  wrapped  his  trembling  form  in  a  blanket 
and  gasped,  as  he  followed,  "  I'll  pay  you  back  every 
cent  of  that  money  with  interest." 

"  Make  your  peace  with  God.  We  may  soon  be 
before  Him,"  was  the  awful  response. 

Miss  Eulie  and  Annie  stood  waiting,  draped  in 
heavy  shawls. 

"I'm  sorry  for  the  delay;  Hunting's  door  was 
jammed  and  had  to  be  broken  open.  Come ;  * 
and  putting  his  arm  around  Miss  Eulie  and  taking 
Annie's  hand,  he  forced  them  rapidly  through  the 


WHA  T  A  CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO.  505 

increasing  throng  of  terror-stricken  passengers  that 
were  rushing  in  all  directions. 

Even  then,  with  a  strange  thrill  at  heart,  Annie 
thought,  "  He  has  saved  his  enemy's  life." 

He  took  them  well  aft,  and  said,  "  Don't  move; 
stand  just  here  until  I  return,"  and  then  pushed  his 
way  to  the  point  where  a  frantic  crowd  were  snatch 
ing  for  the  life  preservers  which  were  being  given 
out.  The  officer,  knowing  him,  tossed  him  four  as 
requested. 

Coming  back,  he  said  to  Hunting,  "  Fasten  that 
one  on  Miss  Morton  and  keep  the  other."  Throw 
ing  down  his  own  for  a  moment,  he  proceeded  to 
fasten  Annie's.  He  would  riot  trust  the  demoral 
ized  Hunting  to  do  anything  for  her,  and  he  was 
right,  for  Hunting's  hands  so  trembled  that  he  was 
helpless.  Having  seen  that  Annie's  was  secured 
beyond  a  doubt,  Gregory  also  tied  on  Miss 
Eulie's. 

In  the  mean  time  a  passenger  snatched  his  own 
preserving-belt,  which  he  had  been  trying  to  keep  by 
placing  his  foot  upon  it. 

"Stop,"  Annie  cried.  "  O  Mr.  Gregory!  he  has 
taken  it  and  you  have  none.  You  shall  have  mine  ;  " 
and  she  was  about  to  unfasten  it. 

He  laid  a  strong  grasp  upon  her  hands.  "  Stop  such 
folly,"  he  said,  sternly.  "  Come  to  where  they  are 
launching  that  boat.  You  have  no  choice  ;  "  and 
he  forced  her  forward  while  Hunting  followed 
with  Miss  Eulie. 

They  stood  waiting  where  the  lantern's   glare  fell 


506  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

upon  their  faces,  with  many  others  more  pale  and  ago. 
nized. 

Annie  clung  to  him  as  her  only  hope  (for  Hunt- 
ing  seemed  almost  paralyzed  with  fear),  and  whis 
pered,  ''Will  you  the  same  as  die  for  me  again?" 

"  Yes,  God  bless  you  !  a  thousand  times  if  there 
were  need,"  he  said,  in  tones  whose  gentleness 
equalled  the  harshness  of  his  former  words. 

She  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  There  wras  no 
fear  upon  his  face,  only  unspeakable  love  for  her. 

"Are  you  not  afraid?"  she  asked. 

"  You  said  I  was  a  Christian  to-day,  and  your 
Bible  and  God's  voice  in  my  heart  have  confirmed 
your  words.  No,  I  am  at  peace  in  all  this  uproar, 
save  anxiety  for  you." 

She  buried  her  face  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  My  darling  sister  ! "  he  murmured  in  her  ear. 
"  How  can  I  ever  thank  you  enough  ?  " 

Then  he  started  suddenly,  and  tearing  off  the 
cape  of  his  coat,  said  to  Hunting,  "Fasten  that 
around  Miss  Morton;"  and  before  Annie  quite  knew 
what  he  was  doing  he  had  taken  off  the  body  part 
and  incased  her  in  it. 

"  Here,  Hunting,  your  belt  is  not  secure; "  and  he 
tightened  the  straps. 

"  Pass  the  women  forward,"  shouted  the  captain. 

Of  course  those  nearest  were  embarked  first.  The 
ladies  in  Gregory's  charge  had  to  take  their  turn, 
and  the  boat  was  about  full  when  Miss  Eulie  was 
lowered  over  the  side. 

At  that   moment  the   increasing  throng,   with  a 


WHAT  A   CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO.  507 

deeper  realization  of  danger,  as  the  truth  of  their 
situation  grew  plainer,  felt  the  first  mad  impulse  of 
panic,  and  there  was  a  rush  toward  the  boat.  Hunt 
ing  felt  the  awful  contagion.  His  face  had  the  look 
of  a  hunted  wild  beast.  Annie  gazed  wonderingly 
at  him,  but  as  he  half-started  with  the  others  for  the 
boat  she  understood  him.  Laying  a  restraining  hand 
upon  his  arm,  she  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  If  you  leave 
my  side  now,  you  leave  it  forever." 

He  cowered  back  in  shame. 

The  officer  in  charge  of  the  boat  had  shouted, 
"This  boat  is  for  women  and  children  ;  as  you  are 
men  and  not  brutes,  stand  back." 

This  checked  the  desperate  mob  for  a  moment, 
and  Gregory  was  about  to  pass  Annie  down  when 
there  was  another  mad  rush  led  by  the  blatant  indi 
vidual  who  had  scouted  the  idea  of  Providence. 

"Cutaway  all,"  shouted  the  captain  from  the 
bridge,  and  the  boat  dropped  astern. 

It  was  only  by  fierce  effort  that  Gregory  kept  him 
self  and  Annie  from  being  carried  over  the  side   by 
the  surging  mass,  many    of  whom    leaped    blindly 
over,  supposing  the  boat  to  be  still  there. 

Pressing  their  way  out  they  went  where  another 
boat  was  being  launched.  Hunting  followed  them 
like  a  child,  and  was  as  helpless.  He  now  com 
menced  moaning,  "  O  God !  what  shall  I  do  ?  what 
shall  I  do?" 

"  Trust  Him,  and  be  a  man.  What  else  should 
you  do  ?  "  said  Gregory,  sternly,  for  he  was  deeply 
disgusted  at  Hunting's  behavior. 


508  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Around  this  boat  the  officer  in  charge  had  placed 
a  cordon  of  men  to  keep  the  crowd  away,  and  stood 
pistol  in  hand  to  enforce  his  orders.  But  the  boat 
was  scarcely  lowered  before  there  was  the  same  wild 
rush,  mostly  on  the  part  of  the  crew  and  steerage 
passengers.  The  officer  fired  and  brought  down 
the  foremost,  but  the  frenzied  wretches  trampled 
him  down  with  those  helping,  together  with  women 
and  children,  as  a  herd  of  buffaloes  might  have  done. 
They  poured  over  into  the  boat,  swamped  it,  and  as 
the  steamer  moved  slowly  ahead,  were  left  struggling 
and  perishing  in  the  waves. 

Gregory  had  put  his  arm  around  Annie  and  drawn 
her  out  of  the  crush.  Fortunately  they  had  been 
at  one  side,  so  that  this  was  possible. 

"  The  boats  are  useless,"  he  said,  sadly.  "  There 
will  be  the  same  suicidal  folly  at  every  one,  even  if 
they  have  time  to  lower  any  more.  Come  aft.  That 
part  will  sink  last,  and  there  will  be  less  suction  there 
when  the  ship  goes  down.  We  may  find  something 
that  will  keep  us  afloat." 

Annie  clung  to  his  arm  and  said,  quietly,  "  I  will 
do  just  as  you  say,"  while  Hunting  followed  in  the 
same  maze  of  terror. 

They  had  hardly  got  well  away  before  a  mast, 
with  its  rigging,  fell  where  they  had  stood,  crushing 
many  and  maiming  others,  rendering  them  help 
less. 

"Awful!  awful!"  shuddered  Hunting,  and  Annie 
put  her  hands  before  her  eyes. 

An  officer,  with  some  men,  now  came  toward  them 


WffA  T  A  CHRISTIAN'  COULD  DO.  509 

with  axes,  and  commenced  breaking  up  the  after 
wheel-house. 

"  Here  is  our  best  chance,"  said  Gregory.  "  Let 
us  calmly  await  the  final  moment  and  then  do  the 
best  we  can.  All  this  broken  timber  will  float,  and 
we  can  cling  to  it." 

The  ship  was  settling  fast,  and  had  become  like  a 
log  upon  the  water,  responding  slowly  and  heavily  to 
the  action  of  the  waves.  But  underthe  cold,  pitiless 
starlight  of  that  winter  night,  what  heart-rending 
scenes  were  witnessed  upon  her  sinking  deck! 
Death  had  already  laid  its  icy  finger  on  many,  and 
many  more  were  grouped  near  in  despairing  expecta 
tion  of  the  same  fate. 

While  many,  like  Hunting,  were  almost  paralyzed 
with  fear,  and  others  shrieked  and  cried  aloud  in 
agony, — while  some  prayed  incoherently,  and  others 
rushed  back  and  forth  as  if  demented, — there  were 
not  wanting  numerous  noble  examples  of  faith  and 
courage.  Fortunately,  there  were  not  many  ladies 
on  board,  and  most  of  these  proved  that  woman's 
fortitude  is  not  a  poetic  fiction.  One  or  two  family 
groups  stood  near  in  close  embrace,  and  some  men 
calmly  folded  their  arms  across  their  breasts,  and 
met  their  fate  as  God  would  have  them. 

Annie  was  conscious  of  a  strange  peace  and  hope 
fulness.  She  thrilled  with  the  thought  which  she 
expressed  to  Gregory, — "  How  soon  I  may  see  father 
and  mother!" 

She  stood  now  with  one  hand  on  Hunting's  trem 
bling  arm,  for  at  that  supreme  moment  her  heart  was 


510  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

very  tender,  and  she  pitied  while  she  -wondered  at 
him.  But  Gregory  was  a  tower  of  strength.  He 
took  her  hand  in  both  his  own,  and  said,  "  I  can  say 
the  same,  and  more.  Both  father  and  mother  are 
awaiting  me — and,  Annie,"  he  whispered,  tenderly, 
"you,  too,  will  be  there.  So,  courage!  'Good 
neighbors,'  soon." 

Why  did  her  heart  beat  so  strangely  at  his 
words? 

"  O  God  !  have  mercy  on  me  !  "  groaned  the  man 
who  had  seemed,  but  was  not. 

"  Amen !  "  breathed  both  Annie  and  Gregory, 
fervently. 

Suddenly  they  felt  themselves  lifted  in  the  air, 
and,  looking  toward  the  bow,  saw  it  going  under, 
while  what  seemed  a  great  wave  came  rolling  toward 
them,  bearing  upon  its  dark  crest  white,  agonized 
faces  and  struggling  forms. 

Annie  gave  a  swift,  inquiring  look  to  Gregory. 
His  face  was  turned  heavenward,  in  calm  and  noble 
trust. 

Hunting's  wild  cry  mingled  with  the  despairing 
shriek  of  many  others,  but  ended  in  a  gurgling  groan 
as  he  and  all  sank  beneath  the  waters. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

UNMASKED. 

IT  seemed  that  they  passed  through  miles  of  watef 
that  roared  around  them  like  a  cataract.  But  Annie 
ind  Gregory  held  to  each  other  in  their  strong,  con- 
vulsive  grasp,  and  her  belt  caused  him  to  rise  with 
her  to  the  surface  again.  A  piece  of  the  wheel-house 
floated  near ;  Gregory  swam  for  it,  and  pushing  it  to 
Annie  helped  her  upon  it.  Hunting  also  grasped  it. 
But  it  would  not  sustain  the  weight  of  all  three, 
especially  as  Gregory  had  no  preserver  on. 

One  must  leave  it  that  the  other  two  might  escape. 

"  Good-by,  Annie,  darling,"  said  Gregory.  "  We 
will  meet  again  in  heaven  if  not  on  earth.  Cling  to 
your  plank  as  long  as  you  can,  and  a  boat 
may  pick  you  up.  Good-by,  poor  Hunting,  I'm 
sorry  for  you." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?"  gasped  Annie. 

"  Don't  you  see  that  this  won't  float  all  three?  I 
shall  try  to  find  something  else." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Annie,  "  don't  leave  me  :  you  have 
no  belt  on.  If  you  go  I  will  too." 

"  I  once  lived  for  your  sake ;  now  you  must  for 
mine.  I  may  save  myself ;  but  if  you  leave  we  shall 
both  drown.  Good-by,,  dearest.  If  I  reach  home 
first,  I'll  watch  and  wait  till  you  come." 


512  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

She  felt  him  kiss  her  hand  where  she  clung  to  her 
frail  support,  and  then  he  disappeared  in  the  dark 
ness. 

"  Why  did  you  let  him  go?  "  she  said  to  Hunting, 
--"you  who  have  a  preserver  on  ?  " 

"  O  God,  have  mercy  on  me ! "  groaned  the 
wretched  man. 

Annie  now  gave  up  all  hope  of  escape,  and  indeed 
wished  to  die.  She  was  almost  sure  that  Gregory 
had  perished,  and  she  felt  that  her  best-loved  ones 
were  in  heaven. 

She  would  have  permitted  herself  to  be  washed 
away  had  not  a  sense  of  duty  to  live  until  God  took 
her  life  kept  her  firm.  But  every  moment  it  seemed 
that  her  failing  strength  would  give  way,  and  her 
benumbed  hands  loosen  their  hold. 

"  But/'  she  murmured  in  the  noblest  triumph  of 
faith,  "I  shall  sink,  not  in  these  cold  depths,  but  into 
rny  Saviour's  arms." 

Toward  the  last,  when  alone  in  the  very  presence 
of  death,  He  seemed  nearest  and  dearest.  She  could 
not  bear  to  look  at  the  dark,  angry  waters  strewn 
with  floating  corpses.  She  had  a  sickening  dread 
that  Gregory's  white  face  might  float  by.  So  she 
closed  her  eyes,  and  only  thought  of  heaven,  which 
was  so  near  that  its  music  seemed  to  mingle  with  the 
surging  of  the  waves. 

She  tried  to  say  a  comforting  word  to  Hunting, 
but  the  terror-stricken  man  could  only  groan  mechani 
cally,  "  God  have  mercy  on  me  !  " 

Soon  she  began  to  grow  numb  all  over.     A  dreamy 


UNMASKED.  513 

peace  pervaded  her  mind,  and  she  was  but  partially 
conscious. 

She  was  aroused  by  hearing  her  name  called. 
Did  the  voice  come  from  that  shore  beyond  all  dark 
waves  of  earthly  trouble  ?  At  first  she  was  not 
sure. 

Again  and  louder  came  the  cry,  but  too  full  of 
human  agony  to  be  a  heavenly  voice, — 

"Annie  !  Annie!" 

"  Here  !  "  she  cried,  faintly,  while  Hunting,  helpful 
for  once,  shrieked  aloud  above  the  roar  of  the 
waves. 

Then  she  heard  the  sound  of  oars,  and  a  moment 
later  strong  hands  lifted  her  into  the  boat,  and  she 
found  herself  in  Gregory's  arms,  her  head  pillowed  on 
his  breast.  Then  all  grew  dark. 

When  she  again  became  conscious  she  found  her 
self  in  a  small  cabin,  with  many  others  in  like  pitiable 
plight.  Her  aunt  was  bending  over  her  on  one  side 
and  Gregory  on  the  other,  chafing  her  hands.  At 
first  she  could  not  remember  or  understand,  and 
stared  vacantly  at  them. 

"  Annie,  darling,"  said  Miss  Eulie,  "  don't  you 
know  me  ?  " 

Then  glad  intelligence  dawned  in  her  face,  and  she 
reached  out  her  arms,  and  each  clasped  the  other  as 
one  might  receive  the  dead  back  to  life. 

But  quickly  she  turned  and  asked,  "  Where  is  Mr. 
Gregory  ?  " 

"  Here,  safe  and  sound,"  he  said,  joyously,  "  and 
Hunting,  too.  I  shall  bless  him  all  the  days  of  my 


5*4  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

life,  for  his  cries  drowned  old  ocean's  hoarse  voice 
and  brought  us  right  to  you." 

Hunting  looked  as  if  he  did  not  exactly  relish  the 
tribute,  but  he  stooped  down  and  kissed  Annie,  who 
permitted  rather  than  received  the  caress. 

"How  did  you  escape?'*  she  asked  Gregory,  ea 
gerly. 

"  Well,  I  swam  toward  the  ship  that  struck  us, 
whose  lights  I  saw  twinkling  in  the  distance,  till 
almost  exhausted.  I  was  on  the  point  of  giving  up. 
when  a  small  piece  of  the  wreck  floated  near.  By  a 
great  effort  I  succeeded  in  reaching  it.  Then  a  little 
later  a  boat  from  this  ship  picked  me  up  and  we 
started  after  you  or  any  others  that  could  be  found. 
I  am  glad  to  say  that  quite  a  number  that  went  down 
with  the  ship  were  saved." 

She  looked  at  him  in  a  way  to  bring  the  warm  blood 
into  his  face,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  How  can  I 
ever  repay  you  ?  " 

"  By  doing  as  you  once  said  to  me,  *  Live !  get 
strong  and  well.*  Good-by  now.  Miss  Morton  will 
take  care  of  you.*' 

Her  eyes  followed  him  till  he  disappeared,  then 
she  turned  and  hid  her  face  on  Miss  Eulie*s  shoulder. 
The  good  old  lady  was  a  little  puzzled,  and  so  was 
Hunting,  though  he  had  dismal  forebodings.  But 
he  was  so  glad  to  have  escaped  that  he  could  not 
indulge  in  very  bitter  regrets  just  then.  As  his 
mind  recovered  its  poise,  however,  and  he  had  time 
to  think  it  all  over,  there  came  4  sickening  sense  of 
humiliation. 


UNMASKED.  515 

In  a  few  minutes  Gregory  returned  and  said  to 
Annie,  "  See  how  honored  you  are.  I've  been  so 
lucky  as  to  get  the  captain's  best  coat  for  you,  and 
those  wet  things  that  would  chill  you  to  death  can 
be  taken  off.  You  can  give  my  coat  to  Hunting. 
You  see  I  was  up  at  the  time  of  the  accident,  and  so 
am  dressed." 

"  If  I  am  to  wear  the  captain's  coat,"  said  Annie, 
"then,  with  some  of  his  authority,  I  order  you  to  go 
and  take  care  of  yourself.  You  have  done  enough 
for  others  for  a  little  while." 

"Ay,  ay,  captain,"  said  Gregory,  smiling,  as  he 
again  vanished. 

It  would  only  be  painful  to  dwell  on  the  dreary 
days  and  nights  during  which  the  comparatively 
small  sailing  vessel  was  beating  back  against  a  stormy 
wind  to  the  port  from  which  she  had  sailed.  She  had 
been  much  injured  by  the  collision,  and  many  were 
doubtful  whether,  after  all,  they  would  ever  see  land. 
Thus,  to  the  manifold  miseries  of  the  rescued  pas 
sengers,  was  added  continued  anxiety  as  to  their  fate. 
It  was,  indeed,  a  sad  company  that  was  crowded  in 
that  small  cabin,  half-clothed,  bruised,  sick,  and  fear 
ful.  What  seemed  to  them  an  endless  experience  was 
but  a  long  nightmare  of  trouble,  while  some,  who  had 
lost  their  best  and  dearest,  refused  to  be  comforted 
and  almost  wished  they  had  perished  also. 

Annie's  gratitude  that  their  little  party  had  all 
been  spared  grew  stronger  every  hour,  and  the  one 
through  whose  efforts  they  had  been  saved  grew 
daily  dearer. 


516  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

At  first  she  let  her  strong  affection  go  out  to 
him  unchecked,  not  realizing  whither  she  was  drift 
ing  ;  but  a  little  characteristic  event  occurred  which 
revealed  her  to  herself. 

Her  exposure  had  again  caused  quite  a  serious 
illness,  and  she  saw  little  of  Gregory  for  a  few  days. 
Hunting  claimed  his  right  to  be  with  her  as  far  as  it 
was  possible.  Though  she  would  not  admit  it  to 
herself,  she  almost  shrunk  from  him.  Of  course  the 
sailing  ship  had  been  provisioned  for  only  a  compar 
atively  small  crew,  and  the  sudden  and  large  accession 
to  the  number  threatened  to  add  the  terrors  of 
famine  to  their  other  misfortunes. 

Annie  had  given  almost  all  of  her  allowance  away. 
Indeed  she  had  no  appetite,  and  revolted  at  the 
coarse  food  served.  But  she  noticed  that  Hunting 
ate  all  of  his,  or  else  put  some  quietly  away,  in  view 
of  future  need.  She  said  to  him,  upon  this  occasion, 
"  Can't  you  spare  a  little  of  your  portion  for  those 
poor  people  over  there?  They  look  half-famished." 

"  I  will  do  so  if  you  wish,"  he  replied,  "  but  it 
would  hardly  be  wise.  Think  what  tremendous 
business  interests  I  represent,  and  it  is  of  the  first 
importance  that  I  keep  up." 

"  Mr.  Gregory  is  almost  starving  himself,"  said 
Miss  Eulie,  quietly.  "  I  feel  very  anxious  about 
him." 

"  I  represent  a  business  of  thousands  where  Mr. 
Gregory  does  hundreds,"  said  Hunting,  complacently. 

" 1  wish  you  represented  something  else,"  said 
Annie,  bitterly,  turning  away. 


UNMASKED.  517 

Her  words  and  manner  jostled  him  out  of  himself. 
A.  principle  that  seemed  to  him  so  sound  and  gener 
ally  accepted  appeared  sordid  and  selfish  calculation 
to  Annie,  and  she  felt  that  Gregory  represented 
infinitely  greater  riches  in  his  self-denial  for  others. 

Hunting  saw  his  blunder  and  instantly  carried  all 
his  portion  to  those  whom  Annie  had  pointed  out. 
But  it  was  too  late.  He  had  shown  his  inner  nature 
again  in  a  way  that  repelled  Annie's  very  soul.  She 
turned  sick  at  the  thought  of  being  bound  to  such  a 
man. 

At  first  she  had  tried  to  excuse  his  helpless  terror 
on  the  ship  by  thinking  it  a  physical  trait ;  but  this 
was  a  moral  trait.  It  gave  a  sudden  insight  into  the 
cold,  dark  depths  of  his  nature. 

Immediately  after  the  disaster  she  had  been  too 
sick  and  bewildered  to  realize  her  situation.  Hei 
engagement  was  such  an  old  and  accepted  fact  that 
at  first  no  thought  of  any  other  termination  of  it  than 
by  marriage  entered  her  mind.  Yet  she  already 
looked  forward  to  it  only  as  a  duty,  and  she  felt  that 
her  love  for  Hunting  would  be  that  of  pity  rather 
than  trust  and  honor.  But  she  was  so  truthful — so 
chained  by  her  promises — that  her  engagement  rested 
upon  her  like  a  solemn  obligation.  Again,  it  had 
been  entered  into  under  circumstances  so  tenderly 
sacred  that  even  the  wish  to  escape  from  it  seemed 
like  sacrilege.  Still,  she  said,  in  intense  bitterness, 
"  Dear  father  was  deceived  also.  We  did  not  know 
him  as  we  should." 

Yet  she   had  nothing    against    Hunting,    save   9 


5 1 8  OPENING  A  CHES  TNUT  B  URR. 

growing  lack  of  congeniality  and  his  cowardice  at  a 
time  when  few  men  could  be  heroic.  In  her  strong 
sense  of  justice  she  felt  that  she  should  not  condemn 
a  man  for  an  infirmity.  But  her  cheeks  tingled  with 
shame  as  she  remembered  his  weakness,  and  she  felt 
that  a  Christian  ought  to  have  done  a  little  better 
under  any  circumstances.  When,  in  the  event  above 
described,  she  saw  his  hard,  calculating  spirit,  her 
whole  nature  revolted  from  him  almost  in  loathing. 

After  a  brief  time  she  told  him  that  she  wanted  to 
be  alone,  and  he  went  away  cursing  his  own  folly. 
Miss  Eulie,  thinking  she  wished  to  sleep,  also  left  her. 

"  How  can  I  marry  him?  "  she  groaned  ;  "  and 
yet  how  can  I  escape  such  an  engagement  ?  " 

When  her  aunt  returned  she  found  her  sobbing  as 
if  her  heart  would  break. 

"Why,  Annie,  dear,  what  is  the  matter?"  she 
asked. 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  she  moaned,  and  buried  her  face 
in  her  pillow. 

Then  that  judicious  lady  looked  very  intelligent, 
but  said  nothing  more.  She  sat  down  and  began  to 
stroke  Annie's  brown,  dishevelled  hair.  But  instead 
of  showing  very  great  sympathy  for  her  niece,  she 
had  an  unusually  complacent  expression.  Gregory 
had  a  strong  but  discreet  friend  in  the  camp. 

When  Annie  became  calmer,  she  said,  hesitatingly 
"Do  you  think — is  Mr.  Gregory — doesn't  he  eat 
anything?" 

"  No  ;  he  is  really  wronging  himself.  I  heard  it 
$aid  that  the  captain  had  threatened,  jokingly,  to  put 


UNMASKED.  519 

him  in  irons  if  he  did  not  obey  orders  and  eat  his 
allowance." 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  make — do  you  think  he 
would  do  better  if  I  should  ask  him  ?  "  inquired  Annie, 
with  her  face  buried  in  her  pillow. 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Eulie,  gravely,  though  with  a 
smile  upon  her  face,  "  Mr.  Gregory  is  very  self- 
willed,  especially  about  some  things,  but  I  do  think 
that  you  have  more  power  over  him  than  any  one 
else." 

"  Won't  you  tell  him  that  I  want  to  see 
him  ?  " 

He  was  very  glad  to  come.  Annie  tried  hard  to 
be  very  firm  and  composed,  but,  with  her  red  eyes 
and  full  heart,  did  not  succeed  very  well. 

At  first  he  was  a  little  embarrassed  by  her  close 
scrutiny,  for  she  had  wrought  herself  up  into  the 
expectation  of  seeing  a  gaunt,  famine-stricken  man. 
But  his  cheeks,  though  somewhat  hollow,  were  ruddy, 
and  his  face  was  bronzed  by  exposure.  Instead  of 
being  pained  by  his  cadaverous  aspect,  she  was 
impressed  by  his  manly  beauty ;  but  she  said,  "  I 
have  sent  for  you  that  I  might  give  you  a  scolding." 

"  I'm  all  meekness,"  he  said,  a  little  wonderingly. 

"Aunty  tells  me  that  you  don't  eat  anything." 

"That  is  just  what  she  says  of  you." 

"But  I'm  ill  and  can't  eat." 

"  Neither  can  I." 

"Why  not?" 

"  How  can  a  man  eat  when  there  are  hungry 
women  aboard  ?  It  would  choke  me." 


5  TO  OPENING  A  CHES  TNUT  B  URR. 

Instead  of  scolding  him,  she  again  buried  her  face 
in  her  pillow,  and  burst  into  tears. 

He  was  a  little  perplexed,  but  said,  gently,  "  Come, 
my  dear  little  sister,  I  hope  you  are  not  worrying 
about  me.  I  assure  you  there  is  no  cause.  I  never 
felt  better,  and  the  worst  that  can  happen  is  a 
famine  in  England  when  I  reach  there.  It  grieves 
me  to  the  heart  to  see  you  so  pale  and  weak.  The 
captain  says  I  have  a  bad  conscience,  but  it's  only 
anxiety  for  you  that  makes  me  so  restless." 

"  Do  you  stay  upon  deck  all  night  this  bitter 
weather?" 

"  Well,  I  want  to  be  ready  if  anything  should 
happen." 

"  O  Walter,  Walter  !  how  I  have  wronged  you  !  " 

"  No,  beg  your  pardon,  you  have  righted  me. 
What  was  I  when  I  first  knew  you,  Annie  Walton  ? 
There  is  some  chance  of  my  being  a  man  now.  But 
come,  let  me  cheer  you  up.  I  have  good  news  for 
you.  If  I  had  lost  every  dollar  on  that  ship  I  should 
still  be  rich,  for  your  little  Bible  (I  shall  always  call 
it  yours)  remained  safe  in  my  overcoat  pocket,  and 
you  brought  it  aboard.  Now  let  me  read  you  some 
thing  that  will  comfort  you.  I  find  a  place  where 
it  is  written,  '  Begin  here.'  Can  you  account  for 
that  ?  " 

And  he  read  that  chapter,  so  old  but  inexhaustible^ 
beginning,  "  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled." 

Having  finished  it,  he  said,  "  I  will  leave  my  trea 
sure  with  you,  as  you  may  wish  to  read  some  yourself. 
In  regard  to  the  subject  of  the  '  scolding/  which,  by 


UNMASKED.  521 

the  way,  I  have  not  yet  received,  if  Miss  Morton  here 
can  tell  me  that  you  are  eating  more,  I  will. 
Good-by." 

Annie's  appetite  improved  from  that  hour.  She 
seized  upon  the  old  Bible  and  turned  its  stained 
leaves  with  the  tenderest  interest.  As  she  did  so, 
her  harsh  note  to  Gregory,  written  when  Hunting 
complained  that  he  had  been  insulted,  dropped  out. 
How  doubly  harsh  and  unjust  her  words  seemed 
now  !  Then  she  read  his  words,  "  Forgiven,  my 
dear,  deceived  sister."  She  kissed  them  passionately, 
then  tore  the  note  to  fragments. 

Miss  Eulie  watched  her  curiously,  then  stole  away 
with  another  smile.  She  liked  the  spell  that  was 
acting  now,  but  knew  Annie  too  well  to  say  much. 
Miss  Eulie  was  one  of  those  rare  women  who  could 
let  a  good  work  of  this  kind  go  on  without  meddling. 

Annie  did  not  read  the  Bible,  but  only  laid  it 
against  her  cheek.  Then  Hunting  came  back  look 
ing  very  discontented,  for  he  had  managed  to  catch 
glimpses  of  her  interview  with  Gregory. 

"  Shall  I  read  to  you  from  that  book?"  he  said. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  You  seemed  to  enjoy  having  Mr.  Gregory  read  it 
to  you,"  he  said,  meaningly. 

Color  came  into  her  pale  face,  but  she  only  said, 
"  He  did  not  stay  long.  I'm  ill  and  tired." 

"  It's  rather  hard,  Annie,"  he  continued,  with  a 
deeply  injured  air,  "to  see  another  more  welcome  at 
your  side  than  I  am." 

"  What  do   you  mean  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  sudden 


522  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

passion.  "  How  much  time  has  Mr.  Gregory  been 
with  me  since  he  saved  both  our  lives  ?  You  heard 
my  father  say  that  I  should  be  a  sister  to  him  ;  and 
yet  I  believe  that  you  would  like  me  to  become  a 
stranger.  Have  you  forgotten  that  but  for  him  you 
would  have  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  Atlantic  ? 
There,  there,  leave  me  now,  I'm  weak  and  ill, — leave 
me  till  we  both  can  get  into  better  moods." 

Pale  with  suppressed  shame  and  anger,  he  went 
away,  wishing  in  the  depth  of  his  soul  that  Gregory 
was  at  the  bottom  of  the  Atlantic. 

Again  she  buried  her  face  in  her  pillow  and  sobbed 
and  moaned,  "  How  can  I  marry  that  man  !  He 
makes  my  very  flesh  creep." 

Then  for  the  first  time  came  the  swift  thought, 
"I  could  marry  Gregory;  I'm  happy  the  moment 
I'm  near  him  ;  "  and  her  face  burned  as  did  the 
thought  in  her  heart. 

Then  she  turned  pale  with  fear  at  herself.  A  sud 
den  sense  of  guilt  alarmed  her,  for  she  had  the  feel 
ing  that  she  belonged  to  Hunting.  So  solemn  had 
been  her  engagement  that  the  thought  of  loving 
another  seemed  almost  like  disloyalty  to  the  marriage- 
tie.  With  a  despairing  sigh,  she  murmured, 
"  Chained,  chained." 

Then  strongly  arose  the  womanly  instinct  of  self- 
shielding,  and  the  purpose  to  hide  her  secret.  An 
hour  before,  Gregory  could  not  come  too  often.  He 
might  have  stooped  down  and  as  a  brother  kissed  her 
lips,  and  she  would  not  have  thought  it  strange  or 
unnatural.  Now  she  dreaded  to  see  him.  And  yet 


UNMASKED.  523 

when  would  he  be  out  of  her  thoughts  ?  She  hoped 
and  half-believed  that  he  was  beginning  to  regard 
her  as  a  sister,  and  still,  deep  in  her  soul,  this 
thought  had  an  added  sting  of  pain. 

Ah,  Annie  !  you  thought  you  loved  before,  but  a 
master-spirit  has  now  come  who  will  stir  depths  in 
your  nature  of  which  neither  you  nor  Hunting 
dreamed. 

Hunting,  seemingly,  had  no  further  cause  to  be 
jealous  of  Gregory  during  the  rest  of  the  voyage. 
With  the  whole  strength  of  her  proud,  resolute 
nature,  Annie  guarded  her  secret.  She  sent  kind 
messages  to  Gregory,  and  returned  the  Bible,  but 
did  not  ask  him  to  visit  her  again.  Neither  did  she 
come  on  deck  herself  till  they  were  entering  the  har 
bor  of  an  English  port. 

When  Gregory  came  eagerly  toward  her,  though 
her  face  flushed  deeply,  she  greeted  him  with  a  kind 
and  gentle  dignity,  which,  nevertheless,  threw  a  chill 
upon  his  heart.  All  the  earnest  words  he  meant  to 
say  died  upon  his  lips,  and  gave  way  to  mere  com 
monplaces.  Drawing  her  heavy  shawl  about  her, 
she  sat  down  and  looked  back  toward  the  sea  as  if 
regretting  leaving  it  with  all  its  horrors.  He  thought, 
"  When  have  I  seen  such  a  look  of  patient  sorrow  on 
any  human  face?  She  saw  the  love  I  could  not  hide 
at  our  last  interview.  I  did  not  deceive  her  by  call 
ing  her  *  sister.'  Her  great,  generous  heart  is  grieving 
because  of  my  hopeless  love,  while  in  the  most  deli 
cate  manner  she  reminds  me  how  vain  it  is.  Now  I 
know  why  she  did  not  send  for  me  again." 


524  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

He  walked  away  from  the  little  group  pale  and 
faint,  and  she  could  not  keep  back  the  hot  tears  as 
she  watched  him.  Miss  Eulie  was  also  observant, 
and  saw  how  they  misunderstood  each  other.  But 
she  acted  as  if  blind,  feeling  that  quickly  coming 
events  would  right  everything  better  than  any  words 
of  hers. 

Gregory  went  to  another  part  of  the  vessel,  and 
leaned  over  the  railing.  Annie  noticed  with  an  ab 
sorbing  interest  that  he  seemed  as  indifferent  to  the 
delight  of  the  passengers  at  the  prospect  of  soon 
being  on  land,  and  the  bustle  on  the  wharf,  as  he  had 
appeared  at  the  commencement  of  the  voyage.  But 
she  rightly  guessed  that  there  was  tumult  at  his 
heart.  There  certainly  was  at  hers.  When  the  ves 
sel  dropped  anchor  and  they  would  soon  go  ashore, 
he  turned  with  the  resolve,  "  I  will  show  her  that  I 
can  bear  my  hard  lot  like  a  man,"  and  again  came 
toward  them,  a  proud  and  courteous  gentleman. 

Annie  saw  and  understood  the  change,  and  her 
heart  was  chilled  by  a  sense  of  loneliness  and  isola 
tion  greater  than  if  the  stormy  Atlantic  had  rolled 
between  them.  And  yet  his  manner  toward  her  was 
very  gentle,  very  considerate. 

He  took  charge  of  Miss  Eulie,  and  soon  they  were 
at  the  best  hotel  in  the  place.  The  advent  of  the 
survivors  caused  great  excitement  in  the  city,  and 
they  were  all  overwhelmed  with  kindness  and  sym 
pathy. 

After  a  few  hours  Gregory  returned  to  the  hotel, 
dvessed  in  quiet  elegance,  and  he  seemed  to  Annie 


UNMASKED.  $25 

the  very  ideal  of  manhood;  while  she,  in  her  mourning 
robes,  seemed  to  him  the  perfection  of  womankind. 
But  their  manner  toward  each  other  was  very  quiet, 
and  only  Miss  Eulie  guessed  the  subterranean  fires 
that  were  burning  in  each  heart. 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  will  be  perfectly  comfort 
able  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Entirely  so,"  Annie  replied.  "  Mr.  Hunting 
has  telegraphed  to  my  uncle,  and  we  will  await  him 
here.  I  do  not  feel  quite  strong  enough  to  travel 
yet." 

"  Then  I  can  leave  you  for  a  day  or  two  with  a 
quiet  mind.  I  must  go  to  Liverpool." 

She  turned  a  shade  paler,  but  only  said,  "  I  am 
very  sorry  you  must  leave  us  so  soon." 

"  I  missed  a  note  from  your  Bible,"  he  said,  in  a 
low  tone. 

"  Forgive  me  !  I  destroyed  it,"  and  she  turned  and 
walked  to  the  window  to  hide  her  burning  face. 

Just  then  Hunting  entered,  and  a  few  moments 
later  Gregory  bade  them  a  quiet  farewell. 

"  How  wonderful  is  her  constancy  !  "  he  sighed  as 
he  went  away.  "  How  can  she  love  and  cling  to  that 
man  after  what  he  has  shown  himself  !  " 

He  had  utterly  misunderstood  her  and  believed 
that  she  had  destroyed  the  note,  not  because  of  her 
own  harsh  words,  but  of  his  reflecting  on  Hunting. 

Annie  thought  she  knew  what  sorrow  was,  but 
confessed  to  herself  in  bitterness,  after  he  had  gone, 
that  such  had  not  been  the  case  before. 

If  Hunting  secretly  exulted  that  Gregory  was  out 


526  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

of  the  way,  and  had  been  taught  by  Annie  that  he 
must  keep  his  distance,  as  he  would  express  it,  he 
was  also  secretly  uneasy  at  her  manner  toward  him. 
She  merely  endured  his  lavish  attentions,  and  seemed 
relieved  when  he  was  compelled  to  leave  her  for  a 
time.  "  She  will  feel  and  act  differently,"  he  thought, 
"when  she  gets  well  and  strong,  and  will  be  the 
same  as  before."  Thus  the  harassing  fears  and 
jealousy  that  had  tortured  him  at  sea  gave  way  to 
complacent  confidence.  But  he  was  greatly  provoked 
that  he  could  scarcely  ever  see  Annie  without  the 
embarrassing  presence  of  Miss  Eulie. 

He  had  a  growing  antipathy  for  that  lady,  while 
he  felt  sure  that  she  did  not  like  him.  Annie  was 
very  grateful  to  her  aunt  for  quietly  shielding  her 
from  caresses  that  every  hour  grew  more  unendura 
ble. 

Gregory  was  detained  for  some  time  in  Liverpool, 
and  on  his  return  to  the  city  where  he  had  left 
Annie  and  Miss  Eulie  he  met  Mr.  Kemp,  whom  he 
had  known  well  in  New  York,  also  seeking  them. 
This  gentleman  greeted  him  most  warmly,  for  he 
had  read  in  the  papers  good  accounts  of  Gregory's 
behavior.  In  a  few  moments  they  entered  the  hotel 
together.  Fortunately,  as  Gregory  thought,  but 
most  unfortunately,  as  he  learned  afterward,  Hunt 
ing  was  out  at  the  time. 

The  warm  color  came  into  Annie's  face  as  he 
greeted  her,  and  she  seemed  so  honestly  and  eagerly 
glad  to  see  him  that  his  sore  heart  was  comforted. 

Mr.  Kemp's   manner  toward  his  niece  and  sister 


UNMASKED.  527 

was  affectionate  in  the  extreme.  Indeed,  the  good 
old  man  seemed  quite  overcome  by  his  feelings,  and 
Gregory  was  about  to  retire,  but  he  said,  "  No 
please  stay,  sir.  Forgive  my  weakness,  if  it  is  such. 
You  don't  know  how  dear  these  people  are  to  me, 
and  when  I  think  of  all  they  have  passed  through  I 
can  hardly  control  myself." 

"  We  should  not  be  here,  uncle,"  said  Annie,  in  a 
low,  thrilling  voice,  "  had  it  not  been  for  Mr.  Greg 
ory." 

Then  the  old  gentleman  came  and  gave  Gregory's 
hand  such  a  grasp  that  it  ached  for  hours  after.  "  I 
have  been  reading,"  he  said,  "  warm  tributes  to  his 
conduct  in  the  papers,  but  I  did  not  know  that  we 
were  all  under  such  deep  personal  obligations  to  him. 
Come,  Annie,  you  must  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"Not  now,  please,"  said  Gregory.  "  I  start  in  a 
few  moments  for  Paris,  and  must  even  nowsaygood- 
by  for  a  little  time.  I  warn  you,  Mr.  Kemp,  that 
Miss  Walton  will  exaggerate  my  services.  She  has 
a  way  of  overvaluing  what  is  done  for  her,  and  under 
valuing  what  she  does  for  others." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Kemp,  with  a  significant  nod, 
"that's a  trait  that  runs  in  the  Walton  blood." 

"  I  long  ago  came  to  regard  their  blood  as  of  the 
truest  blue,"  said  Gregory,  laughing. 

"Must  you  leave  us  again  so  soon? "said  Annie, 
with  a  slight  tremble  in  her  voice. 

"Yes,  Miss  Walton,  even  now  I  should  be  on  the 
way  to  the  train.  But  you  are  surrounded  by  those 
who  can  best  take  care  of  you.  Still  I  earnestly  hope 


528  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

that,  before  many  days,  I  shall  see  you  in  Paris,  and 

in  greatly  improved  health.  So  I  won't  say  good-by, 
but  only  good-morning." 

Ah,  he  did  not  know,  or  he  would  have  said  "  fare 
well  "  with  a  heavy  heart. 

His  parting  from  her  was  most  friendly,  and  the 
pressure  of  his  hand  warm  and  strong,  but  Annie 
felt,  with  a  deep,  unsatisfied  pain  at  heart,  that  it 
was  all  too  formal.  Mr.  Kemp  was  exceedingly  de 
monstrative,  and  said,  "  Wait  till  I  see  you  in  Paris, 
and  I  will  overwhelm  you  with  questions,  especially 
about  your  partner,  my  dear  old  friend,  Mr.  Bur- 
nett." 

But  staid,  quiet  Miss  Eulie  surprised  them  all.  She 
just  put  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  gave  him  a 
hearty  kiss,  saying,  "  Take  that,  Mr.  Gregory,  from 
one  who  loves  you  like  a  mother." 

He  returned  the  caress  most  tenderly,  and  has 
tened  away  to  hide  his  emotion. 

Then  envious  Annie  bitterly  reproached  herself 
that  she  had  been  so  cold,  and,  to  make  amends, 
began  giving  a  glowing  account  of  all  that  Gregory 
had  done  for  them. 

The  old  gentlem  n  listened  with  an  amused  twinkle 
in  his  eyes,  secretly  exulting  over  the  thought, 
"  It  is  not  going  to  break  her  heart  to  part  with 
Hunting." 

In  the  midst  of  her  graphic  story  that  unfortunate 
man  entered,  and  her  words  died  upon  her  lips.  She 
rose  quietly,  and  said,  "  Charles,  this  is  my  uncle,  Mn 
Kemp." 


UNMASKED.  529 

But  she  was  amazed  to  see  Mr.  Kemp,  who  thus 
far  had  seemed  geniality  itself,  acknowledge  her  affi 
anced  with  freezing  coldness,  and  Hunting  turned 
deathly  pale  with  a  presentiment  of  disaster. 

"  Be  seated,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Kemp,  stiffly ;  "  I  wish 
to  make  a  brief  explanation,  and  after  that  will  re 
lieve  you  of  the  care  of  these  ladies." 

Hunting  sank  into  a  chair,  and  Annie  saw  some 
thing  of  the  same  terror  on  his  face  which  had  sick 
ened  her  on  the  sinking  ship.  "  Annie,"  said  her 
uncle,  very  gravely,  "  have  you  entire  confidence  in 
me?  Your  father  had." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Annie,  wondering  beyond  meas 
ure  at  this  most  unaccountable  scene. 

"  Will  you  take  my  word  for  it,  that  this  man,  who 
seems  most  conscious  of  his  guilt,  deceived — yes,  lied 
to  Burnett  &  Co.,  and  swindled  them  out  of  so  large 
a  sum  of  money  that  the  firm  would  have  failed  but 
for  me  ?  Because,  if  you  cannot  take  my  word,  I 
can  give  you  absolute  proof." 

Annie  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  said, "  Now 
I  understand  all  this  wretched  mystery.  How  I  have 
wronged  Mr.  Gregory!" 

"  You  could  not  do  other  than  wrong  him  while 
Mr.  Hunting  had  any  influence  over  you.  I  know 
Mr.  Gregory  well.  He  is  an  honorable  business 
man,  and  always  was,  with  all  his  faults.  And  now, 
sir,  for  your  satisfaction,  let  me  inform  you  that  Mr. 
Burnett  is  one  of  my  most  intimate  friends.  He 
told  me  all  about  it,  and  gave  ample  proof  of  the 
nature  of  the  entire  transaction.  I  am  connected 


530  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BUR*. 

with  the  bank  with  which  the  firm  deposited,  and 
through  my  influence  I  secured  them  such  accom 
modation  as  tided  them  over  the  critical  time  in 
their  affairs  which  your  villany  had  occasioned.'* 

Hunting  now  recovered  himself  sufficiently  to  say, 
"  I  did  nothing  different  from  what  often  occurs  in 
business.  I  had  a  legal  right  to  every  cent  that  I 
collected  from  Burnett  &  Co." 

'  But  how  about  moral  right  ?  Do  we  not  all 
know  that  often  the  most  barefaced  robberies  take 
place  within  the  limits  of  the  law  ?  And  such  was 
your  act.  Even  the  hardened  gamblers  of  the  street 
were  disgusted." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  speak  to  me  in  this  way, 
sir,"  said  Hunting,  trying  to  work  up  a  little  indigna 
tion.  "  Mr.  Walton  trusted  me,  and  I  became  engaged 
to  Miss  Walton  under  circumstances  the  most  sol 
emn  and  sacred ;  we  are  the  same  as  married." 

"  Come,  sir,"  interrupted  Mr.  Kemp,  hotly,  "  don't 
make  me  lose  my  temper.  John  Walton  was  the 
soul  of  Christian  honor.  He  would  have  buried  his 
daughter  rather  than  have  her  marry  you,  if  he  had 
known  you  as  I  do.  I  now  insist  that  you  resign 
your  executorship  and  relieve  us  of  your  presence." 

"  Annie,"  cried  Hunting,  in  a  voice  of  anguish,  "can 
you  sit  quietly  by  and  hear  me  so  insulted  ?  " 

She  sat  motionless, — her  face,  burning  with  shame 
buried  in  her  hands.      With  her  intense  Walton  ha 
tred  of  deceit,  the  thought  that  she  had  come  so  near 
marrying  a  swindler  and  liar  scorched  her  very  soul. 

He  came  to  her  side  and  tried  to  take  her  hand. 


UNMASKED.  531 

but  she  shrunk  from  him  in  loathing,  and,  springing 
up,  said  passionately,  "  When  I  think,  sir,  that  with 
this  guilty  secret  you  would  have  tricked  me  into 
marriage  by  my  father's  death-bed,  I  am  perfectly 
appalled  at  your  wickedness.  God  in  mercy  snatched 
me  then  from  a  fate  worse  than  death." 

She  turned  away  for  a  moment  and  pressed  her 
hands  upon  her  throbbing  heart.  Then  turning  her 
dark  and  flashing  eyes  to  where  he  stood,  pale, 
speechless,  and  trembling,  she  said,  more  calmly, 
"  May  God  forgive  you.  I  will  when  I  can.  Go." 

She  proved  what  is  often  true,  that  the  gentle, 
when  desperately  wronged,  are  the  most  terrible. 

He  slunk  cowering  away  without  a  word,  and  to 
avoid  exposure  Mr.  Kemp  at  once  compelled  him 
to  sign  papers  that  took  from  him  all  further  power 
of  mischief.  Mr.  Kemp  eventually  became  executor 
in  his  stead. 

As  soon  as  Annie  grew  calmer  she  had  a  glad 
sense  of  escape  greater  than  that  which  had  followed 
her  rescue  from  the  wrecked  ship.  Her  heart  sprung 
up  within  her  bosom  and  sung  for  joy.  Then  again 
she  would  shudder  deeply  at  what  she  had  so  nar 
rowly  avoided.  Stronger  than  her  gratitude  for  life 
twice  saved  was  her  feeling  of  obligation  to  Gregory 
for  his  persistent  effort  to  shield  her  from  this  mar 
riage.  She  was  eager  to  start  for  Paris  at  once  that 
she  might  ask  forgiveness  for  all  her  injustice  toward 
him.  But  in  the  excess  of  her  feelings  she  was  far 
more  unjust  toward  herself,  as  he  would  have  told 
her. 


S32  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Still,  even  if  Hunting's  dishonesty  had  not  been 
revealed  to  her,  Annie  would  have  broken  with  him. 
A.S  soon  as  she  gained  her  mental  strength  and  poise 
— as  soon  as  she  realized  that  her  love  was  hope 
lessly  gone  from  him — her  true,  strong  nature  would 
have  revolted  from  the  marriage  as  from  a  crime, 
and  she  would  have  told  him,  in  deepest  pity,  but 
with  rock-like  firmness,  that  it  could  not  be. 

The  next  day  she  greatly  relented  toward  him,  and, 
in  her  deep  pity,  sent  a  kind  farewell  message  which 
it  would  be  well  for  him  to  heed. 


CHAPTER  'XXXV. 

A  CHESTNUT  BURR  AND  A  HOME. 

WHEN  Gregory  reached  Paris,  to  his  grief  and 
consternation  he  found  a  despatch  informing 
him  of  the  sudden  death  of  old  Mr.  Burnett,  and  the 
illness  of  Mr.  Seymour,  the  other  partner.  "  Return 
instantly,"  it  read ;  "  the  senior  clerk  is  coming  out 
to  take  your  place." 

At  first  it  appeared  a  double  grief  that  he  could 
scarcely  endure,  for  it  seemed  that  if  he  went  back 
now  Annie  would  be  lost  to  him  beyond  hope.  But 
after  thinking  it  all  over  he  became  calmer.  "  It 
may  be  best  after  all,  for  as  my  wife  she  is  lost  to  me 
beyond  hope,  and  God  sees  that  I  am  not  strong 
enough  to  meet  her  often  yet  and  sustain  myself, 
and  so  snatches  me  from  the  temptation." 

Thus  little  children  guess  at  the  meaning  of  an 
earthly  father,  but  Gregory  did  what  a  child  should, 
— he  trusted. 

He  wrote  a  warm  but  hasty  note,  to  Annie,  which 
through  some  carelessness  was  never  delivered,  attend 
ed  to  some  necessary  matters,  and  was  just  in  time 
to  catch  the  French  steamer  outward  bound. 

When  Annie  reached  Paris,  she  learned  in  dismay 
that  he  had  sailed  for  New  York.  Seemingly  he 
had  left  no  message,  no  explanation ;  all  they  could 


534  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

:<earn  at  his  hotel  was  that  he  had  received  a 
patch  summoning  him  instantly  home.  Annie  was 
deeply  wounded,  though  she  tried  to  believe  that  he 
had  written  and  that  the  letter  had  been  mis-sent  or 
lost.  A  thousand  conjectures  of  evil  ran  in  her 
mind,  and  the  thought  of  his  being  again  on  the 
ocean,  which  she  now  so  dreaded,  at  the  stormiest 
season  of  the  year,  was  a  source  of  deep  anxiety.  In 
her  morbid  fears  she  even  thought  that  the  scheming 
Hunting  might  have  something  to  do  with  it.  She 
gave  way  to  despondency.  Then  her  aunt  tried  to 
comfort  her  by  saying,  "  Annie,  I  am  sure  I  under 
stand  you  both  better  than  you  do  each  other,  and  * 
think  I  can  write  Mr.  Gregory  a  line  which  will  clear 
up  everything." 

But  the  quiet  little  lady  was  quite  frightened  by 
the  way  in  which  Annie  turned  upon  her. 

"  As  you  love  me,  aunty,"  she  said,  "  never  write 
a  line  on  this  subject.  I  am  not  one  to  seek, 
but  must  be  sought,  even  by  Gregory.  Not  one 
line,  I  charge  you,  containing  a  hint  of  my 
feelings." 

"  Well,  Annie,  darling,"  she  said,  gently,  "  it's  all 
going  to  come  out  right." 

But  Annie,  in  her  weak,  depressed  state,  saw  only 
the  dark  side.  As  with  Gregory  there  was  nothing 
for  her  but  patient  trust. 

But  when,  in  due  time,  there  came  a  despatch 
from  him  announcing  his  safe  arrival,  she  was  greatly 
reassured.  The  light  came  back  into  her  eyes  and 
the  color  to  her  cheeks. 


THE  CHESTNUT  BURR  AGAIft.  535 

"  What  kind  of  medicine  have  you  been  tak 
ing  to-day?"  asked  her  uncle,  slyly. 

"  She  has  been  treated  with  electricity,"  MissEulie 
remarked,  quietly. 

"  O  aunty!  "  said  Annie,  with  a  deep  blush,  "  when 
did  I  ever  hear  you  indulge  in  such  a  witticism  be 
fore  ?  " 

And  when,  some  days  later,  she  received  a  cordial, 
brotherly  letter  from  Gregory,  relating  all  that  had 
occurred,  a  deep  content  stole  into  her  heart,  and 
she  felt,  with  Miss  Eulie,  that  all  would  eventually 
be  well.  She  replied  scrupulously,  in  like  vein  with 
himself,  and  thus  began  a  correspondence  that  to 
each  became  a  source  of  the  truest  happiness.  Their 
letters  were  intensely  brotherly  and  sisterly  in 
character,  but  Annie  felt  almost  sure  that,  under  his 
fraternal  disguise,  she  detected  the  warmth  and 
glow  of  a  far  stronger  affection  ;  and,  before  many 
months  had  passed,  he  hoped  the  same  of  her  dainty 
letters,  though  he  could  not  lay  his  ringer  on  a  single 
word  and  say,  "  This  proves  it."  But  Annie's  warm 
heart  unconsciously  colored  the  pages,  neverthe 
less. 

Of  Hunting  he  briefly  wrote,  "  God  pity  him." 

In  May,  Gregory  was  glad  to  find  that  he  would 
have  to  go  to  Europe  again,  and  purposed  to  give 
Annie  a  surprise.  But  he  received  only  a  very  sad 
one  himself,  for,  on  arriving  at  Paris,  he  learned,  to 
his  intense  disappointment,  that  Mr.  Kemp  and  his 
party  had  suddenly  decided  to  return  home.  He 
was  eventually  comforted  by  receiving  a  letter  from 


536  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Annie,  showing  clearly  that  she  had  been  as  greatly 
disappointed  as  himself ;  but,  woman-like,  most  of 
the  letter  was  an  effort  to  cheer  him. 

Still  he  was  growing  almost  superstitious  at  the 
manner  in  which  she  seemed  to  elude  his  loving 
grasp,  and  sighed,  "  I  fear  she  will  always  prove  to 
me  a  spirit  of  the  air." 

One  bright  morning,  in  the  ensuing  October,  Greg 
ory  again  greeted,  like  the  face  of  a  friend,  the 
shores  of  his  native  country,  and  the  thought  that 
Annie  was  beyond  that  blue  line  of  land  thrilled  his 
heart  with  impatient  expectation. 

As  they  approached  Sandy  Hook,  the  pilot 
brought  aboard  a  New  York  paper,  and  as  he  was 
carelessly  glancing  over  it,  his  eyes  were  caught  by 
an  advertisement  of  the  sale  by  auction  of  the  Wal 
ton  estate,  his  old  home.  He  saw  by  the  date  that 
the  sale  would  not  take  place  till  the  following  day, 
and  he  now  felt  sure  that  he  could  give  Annie  a  dou 
ble  surprise,  for  he  had  not  written  of  his  return.  He 
had  learned  from  Annie  that  her  father  must  have 
intrusted  large  sums  to  Hunting  which  could  not  be 
accounted  for,  and  that  beyond  the  country-place 
not  much  had  been  left.  He  rightly  guessed  that 
this  place  was  about  to  be  sold  to  provide  means  for 
the  support  of  the  family.  He  was  surprised  that 
Annie  had  not  written  to  him  about  the  sale,  and 
indeed  she  had  wished  to,  thinking  that  he  might 
like  to  buy  it.  But  Mr.  Kemp  had  dissuaded  her, 
saying  that  it  was  not  at  all  probable  that  Gregory 
had  the  means  to  buy  so  large  a  property,  and  judg- 


THE  CHESTNUT  BURR  AGAIN.  537 

ing  Gregory  by  himself,  he  added,  "  A  business  man 
does  not  want  a  country-place  anyway.  Besides, 
Annie,  if  you  should  suggest  it,  it  might  be  a  source 
of  much  pain  to  him  to  feel  that  he  could  not." 

But  as  soon  as  Gregory  was  ashore  he  hunted  up 
one  of  his  senior  clerks,  and  instructed  him  to  go  up 
the  following  morning  and  buy  the  place  at  any  cost, 
but  not  to  let  any  one  know  it  was  for  him.  He 
also  told  him  to  assure  the  family  that  they  need  not 
vacate  the  place  in  any  haste. 

It  soon  became  evident  at  the  sale  that  the  stranger 
from  the  city  was  determined  to  have  the  property, 
and  the  other  bidders  gave  way. 

When  the  clerk  returned  that  evening  Gregory 
plied  him  with  questions,  and  learned  that  Miss  Wal 
ton  seemed  to  have  great  regret  at  leaving,  and  was 
very  grateful  when  told  that  she  could  take  her  own 
time  for  departure.  In  fact,  Annie  grudged  every 
October  day  at  the  old  place,  that  brought  back  the 
past  so  vividly.  Gregory  could  not  forbear  asking, 
with  a  slight  flush,  "  How  did  Miss  Walton  look?" 

"  Like  her  surroundings,"  said  the  clerk,  politely 
blind,  "and  not  like  a  city  belle.  Mr.  Gregory,  I 
congratulate  you  on  possessing  the  most  home-like 
place  on  the  river." 

Gregory  took  the  earliest  train  the  following  morn 
ing,  and  at  noon  found  himself  by  the  cedar  thicket 
again,  with  a  strange  thrill,  as  he  recalled  all  that  had 
occurred  there  and  since.  He  sat  down  to  rest  for 
a  moment  on  the  rock  where  Annie  had  first  found 
him  more  than  a  year  before.  Beneath  him  lay 


53^  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

his  home, — his  now  in  truth, — embowered  in  crimson 
and  golden  foliage,  that  seemed  doubly  bright  in  the 
genial  October  sunlight,  while  at  his  very  feet  were 
the  orchard's  laden  boughs,  beneath  which  he  had 
proved  to  Annie  the  reality  and  depth  of  his  love  ; 
and  there  beyond  was  the  cottage  of  Daddy  Tuggars 
with  that  old  man  smoking  upon  the  porch.  But, 
chief  of  all,  he  could  mark  the  very  spot  by  the 
brook  in  the  garden  where  Annie's  hand,  like  an 
angel's,  had  plucked  him  from  the  brink  of  despair, 
and  given  the  first  faint  hope  of  immortal  life.  Tears 
blinded  his  eyes,  but  the  bow  of  promise  shone  in 
them  as  he  looked  heavenward,  and  said,  "  Merciful 
Father!  how  kind  of  Thee,  in  view  of  my  past,  to 
give  me  this  dear  earnest  of  my  heavenly  home!  " 

The  sound  of  approaching  steps  aroused  him,  and 
springing  up  he  saw  through  the  thicket,  with  an 
emotion  so  deep  that  it  made  him  tremble,  the  one 
woman  of  the  world  to  him. 

With  an  expression  of  deep  sadness,  and  the  man 
ner  of  one  taking  a  lingering  leave  of  a  very  dear 
friend,  Annie  came  slowly  toward  him  along  the 
brow  of  the  hill.  He  tried  to  still  even  the  beating 
of  his  heart,  for  he  would  not  lose  one  moment  of 
exquisite  anticipation.  And  yet  he  was  deeply  agi 
tated,  for  he  knew  that  he  could  not  maintain  the 
brotherly  disguise  an  hour  longer, 

Suddenly  she  looked  toward  the  cedar  thicket, 
and,  as  if  recalling  what  had  occurred  there,  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands,  to  hide  the  painful  scene. 
Then  he  saw  that  she  would  net  even  come  to  the 


THE  CHESTNUT  BURR  AGAIN.  539 

place,  but  was  turning  to  go  to  the  house  by  another 
way. 

He  darted  out  from  his  concealment  and  rushed 
toward  her.  At  first,  in  wild  alarm,  she  put  her 
hand  to  her  side,  and  leaned  against  a  chestnut-tree 
for  support.  Then  recognizing  him,  with  a  glad  cry, 
she  permitted  him  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  while  she 
hid  her  face  on  his  shoulder.  A  moment  later  they 
recoiled  from  each  other  in  blushing  confusion. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Gregory,  stupidly. 

She  was  the  first  to  recover  herself,  and  said, 
"  O  Walter,  I'm  so — so  glad  you  have  come  at 
last ! " 

"  Do  I  look  sorry?"  he  asked,  taking  her  hand. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed  ;  "  this  is  too  good  to  be 
true ! " 

"  That's  what  I  think.  I  feared  you  would  take 
flight  the  moment  I  appeared." 

"  When  did  you  arrive  ?  Come,  tell  me  every, 
thing." 

"  Not  all  at  once,  dear — Annie.  But  let  me  give 
you  a  seat  on  the  rock  by  the  thicket,  and  then  I  will 
say  the  catechism." 

"  Please,  no,  Walter;  not  there,"  she  said,  drawing 
back. 

"Yes,  there  ;  we  will  give  that  place  a  new  asso 
ciation." 

But  she  was  glad  to  reach  the  seat,  for  she  trem* 
bled  so  she  could  hardly  stand. 

Then  he  told  her  how  he  purposed  to  surprise  her, 
and  answered  every  eager  question. 


540  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  O  Annie  !  "  he  concluded,  "  how  I  have  longed 
for  this  hour!  Never  did  that  dreadful  ocean  seem 
so  wide  before." 

She  looked  at  him  more  fondly  than  she  knew, 
and  said,  "Ah,  Walter!  your  blood  is  not  on  my 
hands  after  all." 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  said. 

"  I  know  it  is  not,"  she  replied,  putting  them  be 
hind  her  back ;  "  don't  I  see  you  there  well  and 
happy?" 

"  I  don't  know  but  it  will  be  on  your  hands  yet," 
he  said,  half-tragically,  springing  up. 

She  gave  him  a  swift  look  of  inquiry,  but  her  eyes 
dropped  as  quickly  beneath  his  eager  gaze,  while  her 
deep  blush  caused  her  to  vie  with  the  sugar-maple  on 
the  lawn  in  very  truth.  But  he  said  after  a  moment, 
"  Annie,  dear,  won't  you  let  me  interpret  another 
chestnut  burr  for  you?" 

"  Certainly,  Walter,"  she  tried  to  say  innocently, 
"  all  that  are  on  the  tree." 

"Now  don't  make  fun  of  me,  because  I'm  des 
perately  in  earnest.  I  don't  want  one  like  that  I 
chose  with  a  great  lonely  worm-infested  chestnut  in 
it.  What  a  good,  wholesome  lesson  you  gave  me 
then  !  Thank  you,  Annie,  darling." 

"  Brothers  don't  use  such  strong  language  toward 
their  sisters,"  said  Annie,  looking  on  the  ground. 

"  I  can't  help  it.  To  tell  the  honest  truth  I'm  not 
much  of  a  brother.  Neither  do  I  want  one  like  that 
which  you  chose  with  three  chestnuts  in  it.  Three, 
faugh  !  I've  had  enough  of  that.  I  want  to  find 


THE  CHESTNUT  BURR  AGAIN.  541 

one  like  that  which  you  brought  me  the  first  day  I 
met  you  here." 

"  You  will  never  find  it  if  you  stand  talking  for 
ever." 

"  You  won't  go  away  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  not." 

He  looked  at  her  doubtfully,  but  she  would  not 
meet  his  eye.  Then  he  started  on  his  search,  but 
kept  looking  back  so  often  that  she  laughed,  and 
said,  "  I'm  not  a  chestnut  burr." 

"I'm  afraid  of  you." 

"  Then  you  had  better  run  away." 

"Sisters  shouldn't  tease  their  brothers." 

"Well,  forgive  me  this  time." 

He  caught  a  branch  full  of  half-open  burrs,  and 
peered  eagerly  in  them  till  he  found  one  to  his  mind, 
and  pulled  it  off  regardless  of  the  pricking  spines, 
then  came  and  knelt  at  her  side,  and  said,  "  Now, 
Annie,  dear,  look  into  it  carefully.  This  is  nature's 
oracle.  You  see  two  solid,  plump  chestnuts." 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said,  faintly. 

"  And  you  see  this  false,  empty  form  of  shell  be 
tween  them  ?  " 

"  Yes  " — with  a  touch  of  sadness. 

"That's  Hunting,  poor  wretch!  How  unspeak 
able  was  his  loss!  "  and  he  tossed  the  worthless  em 
blem  away. 

"  And  now,  Annie,  loved  beyond  all  words  I  can 
ever  find  to  tell  you,  see  how  near  these  two  chest 
nuts  are  together, — as  near  as  you  and  I  are  in  heart, 
I  trust.  Surely  my  poor  pretence  of  brotherly  char- 


542  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

acter  has  not  deceived  you  for  a  moment.  Won't 
you  please  put  your  dainty  fingers  down  into  the 
burr  and  join  the  two  together?" 

She  lifted  her  drooping  eyes  a  moment  to  the  more 
eloquent  pleading  of  his  face,  but  they  fell  as 
speedily. 

In  a  low,  thrilling  tone  she  said,  "  No,  Walter,  but 
you  may." 

He  dropped  the  burr  and  sealed  the  unspoken 
covenant  upon  her  lips. 

After  a  few  moments  he  said,  very  gently  and 
gravely,  "Annie,  do  you  remember  when  my  arm 
last  encircled  you?" 

The  crimson  face  turned  pale  as  she  recalled  that 
awful  midnight  when  he  rescued  her  from  death. 

Both  breathed  fervently,  "  How  good  God  has 
been  to  us  !  " 

In  their  joy,  as  in  fear  and  sorrow,  they  remem 
bered  Him. 

"  O  see  !  "  cried  Annie,  "  your  hands  are  bleeding 
where  the  burr  pricked  them,  and  you  have  stained 
my  hands  again.  Your  blood  is  on  them,"  she  added, 
almost  in  fear. 

"  Yes,  and  the  best  blood  of  my  heart  ever  will  be. 
Is  not  the  '  blood  upon  us*  the  deepest  and  most 
sacred  hope  of  our  hearts  ?  Is  it  not  the  proof  of 
the  strongest  love  the  world  has  known  ?  Let  mine; 
there  be  the  pledge  that  my  life  is  as  nothing  when 
it  can  shield  and  shelter  you." 

And  so  he  changed  the  meaning  of  the  omen. 

The  hours  passed  unheeded.     At  last  they  went 


THE  CHESTNUT  BURR  AGAIN.  543 

across  the  orchard  as  before,  and  stopped  and  looked 
at  the  place  where  the  ladder  fell,  and  then  at  each 
other. 

"  Walter,"  said  Annie,  shyly,  "  I  gave  you  my  first 
kiss  here." 

"  I  am  repaid  then." 

Before  going  to  the  house,  they  called  on  Daddy 
Tuggar.  He  was  so  amazed  that  he  could  only  ejac 
ulate,  "  EveninV 

"  Mr.  Tuggar,  I  have  acted  on  your  suggestion," 
said  Gregory.  "  I  thought  Miss  Walton  would  be 
good  company  forever,  and  I  have  the  promise  of 
it." 

"  To  think  that  I  should  have  cussed  you  ! "  said 
the  old  man,  in  an  awed  tone. 

"  But  you  will  give  us  your  blessing,  now  ?  "  said 
Annie,  smiling. 

"  My  blessin'  ain't  worth  nothin* ;  but  I  know  the 
good  Lord  will  bless  you  both,  even  if  Miss  Annie 
never  was  an  awful  sinner." 

"  Mr.  Tuggar,"  said  Gregory,  "  I  own  that  place 
over  there.  Will  you  take  me  for  a  neighbor  till  you 
are  ready  to  be  Mr.  Walton's?  " 

"  O  Walter !  "  said  Annie,  with  a  glad  cry,  "  is  that 
really  true  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  became  mine  yesterday  ;  or,  rather,  it  re 
mained  yours." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  Daddy  Tuggar,  his  quaint 
face  twitching  strangely,  "  if  anybody  steals  your 
apples,  I'm  afraid  I'll  swear  at  'em,  even  yet." 

41  No,  you  won't,  Daddy,"  said  he.  "  But  I'm  going 


544  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

to  bring  you  over  to  spend  an  evening  with  us  soon. 
Good-by !  " 

They  found  Miss  Eulie  in  the  parlor,  pensively 
packing  up  some  dear  little  relics  of  a  home  she  sup. 
posed  lost.  Gregory  put  his  arm  around  her  and 
said,  "  Aunty,  I'm  going  to  claim  relationship  right 
away  ;  put  those  things  back  where  you  found  them, 
and  sit  down  here  in  the  cosiest  corner  of  the  hearth, 
your  place  from  this  time  forth." 

"  How  is  this  ? "  she  exclaimed,  in  breathless 
astonishment. 

"  Well,  Annie  owns  me,  and  therefore  this  place." 

Johnny  came  bounding  in,  and  Gregory  caught 
him,  and  said,  "  Here  is  the  prophet  of  my  fate.  How 
did  you  tell  me  your  Aunt  Annie  managed  people, 
the  morning  after  my  first  arrival  here  ?  " 

"  I  said  she  kinder  made  people  love  her,  and 
then  they  wanted  to  do  as  she  said,"  replied  the  boy, 
timidly. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  a  secret,"  and  he  drew  the  boy 
and  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  she  is  going  to  manage 
me  on  just  those  terms." 

Then  little  Susie  came  sidling  in,  and  Gregory 
took  her  in  his  arms,  saying,  "  So  dimpled,  yet  so 
false,  you  renounced  me  for  a  chipmonk ;  and  now  I 
am  going  to  be  Aunt  Annie's  beau  till  I'm  gray." 

Jeff  next  appeared  with  a  basket  of  wood.  Greg 
ory  gave  his  black  hand  an  honest  shake,  and  said, 
41  Why,  Jeff,  old  fellow,  what  is  the  matter  with  you 
to-night  ?  The  last  time  I  saw  you  you  looked  as  if 
you  were  driving  me  to  the  cemetery," 


THE  CHESTNUT  BURR  AGAIN.  545 

"  Well,  Misser  Gregory,"  said  Jeff,  ducking  and 
shuffling.  "  Ise  did  come  mighty  neah  takin*  de 
turnin'  to  de  cem'try  dat  day.  I  tho't  you  looked 
as  if  you  wanted  to  go  dar." 

As  they  sat  down  to  tea,  Zibbie  put  her  head  in 
at  the  door,  and  said,  "  The  gude  God  bless  ye,  for 
ye  ha'  kept  the  auld  'ooman  fra  the  cauld  wourld  yet." 

Delighted  Hannah  could  not  pass  a  biscuit  with 
out  a  courtesy. 

That  evening  the  hickory  fire  glowed  and  turned 
to  bright  and  fragrant  coals  as  in  the  days  past,  but 
Annie  looked  wistfully  toward  her  father's  vacant 
chair,  and  sighed,  "  If  father  were  only  here!  " 

"  Don't  grieve,  darling,"  said  Gregory,  tenderly. 
"  He  is  at  home,  as  we  are." 

A  few  evenings  later  Gregory  brought  up  from 
the  city  a  large,  square  bundle. 

"  What  have  you  there  ?  "  said  Annie,  greeting  him 
as  the  reader  can  imagine. 

"Your  epitaph." 

"  O  Walter  !  so  soon  ?  " 

His  answer  was  a  smile,  and  quickly  opening  the 
package,  he  showed  a  rich,  quaint  frame  containing 
some  lines  in  illuminated  text.  Placing  it  where 
die  light  fell  clearly,  he  drew  her  to  him  and  said, 
"  Read  that." 

"  God  sent  His  messenger  of  faith, 
And  whispered  in  the  maiden's  heart, 
'  Rise  up  and  look  from  where  thou  art, 
And  scatter  with  unselfish  hands 
Thy  freshness  on  the  barren  sands 
And  solitudes  of  death..'  " 


546  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  O  beauty  of  holiness, 
Of  self-forgetfulness ! " 

With  a  caress  of  unspeakable  tenderness  he  said 
You  are  the  maiden,  and  God  sent  you  to  me." 


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